


COUNTERPLAY

by Pink_ChimChim



Category: NCT (Band), tattoo AU - Fandom, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Angst, Art Student Kim Taehyung | V, Barista Jeon Jungkook, Bottom Min Yoongi | Suga, Bottom Park Jimin, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gangsters, M/M, Mafia AU, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Bad at Feelings, Other, Sexual Violence, Smut, Tattoo Artist Kim Taehyung | V, Tattoo Artist Min Yoongi | Suga, Top Park Jimin, University Student Park Jimin, Violence, mafia, please save namjoon, poor namjoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 126,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_ChimChim/pseuds/Pink_ChimChim
Summary: Yoongi is a tattoo artist in Seoul and tattoos one of Jungkook's friends named Park Jimin. It's not an ordinary tattoo, though, and Yoongi wonders what he got himself into once he overhears Jimin threatening his ex-boyfriend. Jimin isn't the innocent angel everyone thought he was, and Yoongi is terrified. He finds himself not only worrying about Jimin and Taehyung's life, but also his own. His friends have been harboring secrets he didn't want to know in the first place, but now he finds himself caught in the crossfire.Jimin is carrying out his counterplay, and Yoongi only wants to protect him...[READ THE LAST CHAPTER BEFORE STARTING THIS FIC]





	1. Parlor in Seoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

Yoongi grunted as he struggled to open the door to his new parlor while juggling a box of picture frames. He managed to get the key in the door before Seokjin could grab the box out of his arms. “Don't hurt yourself, Yoongi,” he scolded, placing the box on the empty wood floor when they all stumbled inside.

“Wow,” Hoseok mumbled, turning around a few times to look at the new tattoo parlor. “This is gonna be really neat, Yoon.”

Yoongi- two years after college- finally had enough money to open his own tattoo parlor, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't about to piss his pants in excitement. For the first few years after graduating art school, he was an apprentice at an unsuccessful parlor in Daegu. Now it was finally time for Yoongi to open his own place, a small corner building in the center of Seoul.

The parlor was nice on the inside, good wood floors that creaked a little and modern brick walls. The setting sun filtered through the giant window in the front, and Yoongi actually felt at home for once.

“This is going to take forever,” Yoongi mumbled, trying to sound emotionless, but he wasn't sure it worked from the way his voice rose an octave at the end of his sentence.

“We’ll get it done,” Namjoon assured, patting him on the back after dropping another box on the floor. “We’re all here to help you.”  
They went back to the hauling truck to get another armload and for next two hours, that's all they did. Finally, when it was too dark to continue, Jin insisted they go out to eat. Nobody argued against it, so Yoongi found himself squeezed into a corner booth at Hoseok’s favorite restaurant. Jin and Namjoon were talking at one end about world peace or some deep shit that didn't register with Yoongi, so Hoseok made small talk with him instead.

“What should my next tattoo be?” Hoseok asked, twirling his straw around his glass.

“How should I know?” Yoongi rolled his eyes, but he was already painting a mental map of Hoseok’s body and every tattoo that he had inked on in the past. After a moment of thinking, Yoongi made up his mind. “What about on your lower back? Just above your ass.”

Hoseok snorted. “Yeah, alright. I think you just want an excuse to see my butt.”

Namjoon and Jin both looked over briefly with disgust etched on their features.

“You guys are such hypocrites,” Hoseok shot back. “Jin, I can't even count the times you mentioned Namjoon’s ass.” At that they turned back to their conversation, both blushing furiously.

~

“Done!” Hoseok yelled, jumping down from the ladder he was using to put up the picture frames. He stood back to admire his work, nodding with a proud smile spread across his face. He had hung up countless pictures of tattoo designs and Yoongi’s artwork from college and high school. “Your so talented, Yoon.”

Yoongi looked up from the brown leather couch where he was typing on his computer to admire the wall of art. “Looks good. Thanks, Hope.”

“No problem.”

The parlor was starting to look more and more inviting with every passing day. Seokjin had brought in a red mini fridge earlier that day- insisting that it was a necessity- and Namjoon helped Yoongi buy a shit ton of rustic looking furniture and a rug. A week went by and Yoongi had everything set up, from the glass shelves to the extra toilet paper in the bathroom. He was proud, to say the least. He finally had a place to call his own, somewhere where he didn't feel like he was interfering with someone else's business.  
He closed his laptop, placing it on the rustic coffee table. “Thank you,” Yoongi said again, standing up and stretching. Hoseok only smiled at him contently. Yoongi looked at the huge red clock that hung above the service counter. “It's late. You should go home and get some rest.”

Hoseok whined at that, mumbling obscenities under his breath. “I don't wanna.”

“Don't you have class tomorrow?” Yoongi asked, walking behind the counter to set up his workspace, arranging his art supplies in a way only he would understand.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said in a small voice, face gloomy. “Jin took Nams back to our apartment, though. I'm not going to be able to go to sleep even if I wanted to, not over those sounds.”

Yoongi laughed. Unfortunately for Hoseok, he shared an apartment with Jin, accustomed to Namjoon’s frequent visits. Fortunately for Yoongi, he roomed with Namjoon, so the man was barely there. Sometimes Yoongi wondered why they didn't just move in together. “You could stay at my apartment,” Yoongi suggested.

Hoseok shook his head, throwing on his coat. “I don't wanna bother you tonight, I’ll just put headphones on.”

“You sure?”

Hoseok grinned at him. “I'm good. Thanks, though. I'm stopping by after class tomorrow to get that back tattoo, yeah?” He pulled his scarf over his mouth and waved at Yoongi. “Bye, see you soon.”

“Bye, Hope. Thanks again.” Yoongi felt a little empty as he watched Hoseok trudge down the street towards the subway. He was excited for tomorrow, though- it was the first day of business. He expected things to be slow at first, he knew it would take time to gain business. He had learned to keep his expectations low.

He glanced back up towards the clock. It was almost midnight, but he had work to do. He finished cleaning his office space, moving on to the inking stations where he wiped down the chairs and organized the inks by color. He laid out a photo book of pre-made tattoo designs on the coffee table then tilted it a little to the left- then a little more to the right- until he was finally satisfied.

Yoongi was jittery when he left the parlor a few hours later, pulling his beanie further down on his mint hair. The subway was closed so he had to take an uber, and soon he was typing in the passcode to his apartment. He and Namjoon had a simple living style, buying only things that they needed. Namjoon had a good job, he was a music production manager that helped with some of the top artists, but he still didn't like to spend his money freely.

Yoongi walked to the couch, not even bothering to take his shoes off, and fell asleep within seconds. He was good at it- sleeping anytime, anywhere. He was a generally tired person who tended to stay up late and wake up early. Yoongi didn't like to sleep during the night, he thought the night was for parties and drunk confessions, not sleeping. But sometimes when he was really tired- like now- it didn't matter what the time was.

Sometimes sleeping at night scared him- that's when the nightmares would pop up. He thought he was over them, but then they started up again. First they were spotty, and Yoongi would wake up wondering if he really did have a bad dream or if it was just his imagination. Then they became more frequent, the dreams were renditions of his uncomfortable past that wouldn't leave him alone. Yoongi didn't have abusive parents or a terrible home life. He wasn't bullied and he felt confident… or at least he acted confident.

Yoongi had nightmares about his depression. Flashbacks of suicide attempts that made him throw up on Namjoon’s floor and leave his stomach in knots. Flashbacks of him looking in the mirror smiling crazily, tears forming rivers down his cheeks. The dreams would make him want to throw up everything in his stomach and tear his hair out.  
He still felt the effects of his depression even though he’d learned how to harness it in public. He had a difficult time opening up to people who weren't his immediate friends. He had always been friends with Hoseok Namjoon since they were young, he met Jin when Nams brought him to a party and they got high on the roof. Even then, it took him over a year to get completely comfortable with Seokjin. But now they were inseparable.

~

“Yoons?” It was Namjoon shaking him awake. “Wakey wakey. I made breakfast.”

Hearing that, Yoongi pried his eyes open with a groan. “What time is it?”

“Nine.”

Good, Yoongi didn't need to be at work till ten. “What did you make?”

“Your favorite- omelets.”

Yoongi sat up, reaching for Namjoon. “I love you,” he mumbled, hugging him lazily. Namjoon dismissed him with a wave, telling Yoongi to get dressed. He took an extra long shower and actually dried his hair so it would look presentable. Yoongi threw on his ripped black jeans and a huge white sweatshirt that covered his butt. It was too cold outside to wear anything that could allow him to show off his arm tattoos.

Namjoon was just throwing an omelet on a plate when Yoongi shuffled into the kitchen, still feeling a little sleepy. When he settled down at the table, a smirk spread across his lips. “How was Jin’s?”

From the way Namjoon struggled to lower himself into his chair, Yoongi had all the explanation he would ever need. “G-Good,” he said quietly, blushing. He skillfully avoided the subject by asking, “Are you excited for your first day?”

It was Yoongi’s turn for the butterflies to visit his stomach. “I'm nervous,” he confessed. “But yeah, I'm excited.” He absently flexed his hand, observing the tattoo on his wrist that said RELIEF. “Hoseok’s coming by this afternoon to get a tattoo.”

“Really?”

Yoongi nodded, glancing at the time on his phone. “I should go. Thanks for the omelet.”

“I'm coming later tonight with food. And probably Jin.”

“What’s the difference?” Yoongi snorted, pulling his boots on. Ignoring Namjoon’s sounds of annoyance, he trudged down the stairs of the building into the cold Seoul air. He took the subway down to the heart of the city where he jogged down the street to his corner parlor. His hand shook with excitement when he threw open the door, breathing in the musty air. He shook off his parka and hung it up on the coat rack with a smile. He caught himself laughing happily when he turned on his electric TATTOO sign.

He had finally made it, he had his own tattoo shop. He never imagined he would have his own space that he could fill up with his drawings and his ideas. The idea alone sent a happy shiver down his spine. Now, he just had to wait for customers.

He didn't expect any the first day, and he was right. He worked on advertisements the whole day, submitting them to the newspaper and printing flyers to put up around town (which he did during his lunch break). The day sped by quickly, and they next thing Yoongi knew, Hoseok was thrusting the door open with someone behind him.  
“Yoooongi!” he sung, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. “I brought a friend. He’s one of my second-year students at University.”

“H-Hi, I'm Jungkook,” a boy said tentatively from behind Hoseok.

Yoongi had to pry Hoseok off his body to even see the boy. He was tall with brown hair, wearing a white shirt and timberlands. “Hey, I'm Yoongi. Whassup?”

“We’re here to get tattoos!” Hoseok exclaimed with a huge smile.

Yoongi cocked a brow at the boy. “Really?”

“Well, I've been thinking about getting one for a while, I just don't know what to get.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe you had some ideas?”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi said, getting jittery. This was going to be his first official customer. Well, if he decided to get a tattoo. “How about you look through my photo books for a while and maybe get a feel for something you like? We can design a totally different tattoo, of course.”

“You wanna watch me get one?” Hoseok asked.

“That's a good idea,” Yoongi added, smiling at the boy. “You might get some ideas.”

“Okay.” Jungkook seemed to like that idea, a shy smile taking over his features.

Jungkook sat on the couch and looked through the photo books for ideas while Hoseok talked to Yoongi about what he wanted.  
“Maybe a quote?” Hoseok thought out loud, sitting on the service counter while Yoongi worked quickly at his desk, sketching messily on a piece of paper. “Or something geometric. I don't know, Yoons.”

“What about this?” Yoongi said after a few minutes, sliding the paper over to Hoseok. It was a small crown with geometric designs filling the inside.  
Hoseok’s face lit up. “That's neat!” The next hour was dedicated to modifying the crown to his liking and making the template.  
“Okay, Hope. What do you think?” He held up the final draft in purple ink.

“I love it! Get this on my body right now!” Yoongi laughed, helping Hoseok pull his shirt off. Jungkook came over to watch while Yoongi pressed the template on Hoseok’s lower back. Hoseok stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, admiring the template. “Damn,” he marveled, struggling to look at his back. “I like it.”

Yoongi nodded, obviously proud. “Are you ready?”

“Yep, let's go.” Yoongi laid Hoseok down on the inking table then sat in his swivel chair where he could easily maneuver around. He prepared the ink, making small talk with both the boys.

“So, are you two dating?” Jungkook asked.

Yoongi snorted, starting on the outline of the tattoo, a mechanical buzz filling the air. “No. More like…” He thought for a moment. “Platonic soulmates.” He wiped away some of the blood, continuing to press the needle against Hoseok’s pale skin.

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook looked at Hope with worry in his eyes.

“A little. It hurts a lot on the spine.” Hoseok could see the younger boy’s eyes searching his back, admiring all his tattoos.

“Why do you have so many on your back? Why not your arm or something?”

“We’re dancers, Kookie,” Hoseok reminded with a snort. “I shouldn't have any visible ones. Yet. I've always wanted knuckle tattoos like Yoongi, though.”

Yoongi liked that idea, thinking it would look good on Hobi. He licked his lips, focusing on the outlining... and answering Jungkook’s endless questions.

“How many do you have, Yoongi-ssi?” Jungkook asked.

“I lost count after fifteen.”

An hour later Hoseok’s tattoo was done and Yoongi was just wrapping him up when Namjoon and Jin burst through the door, setting off the little bell. They had plastic bags, and when the smell wavered over to the boys, Yoongi could only guess it was food. “What’d you bring us, Hyung?” Yoongi asked, taping the plastic down and helping Hoseok up off the table.

Hoseok went to observe it in the mirror, whistling loudly. “Thanks, Yoon. It looks fabulous like always.”

“No problem,” Yoongi said, smiling at his back. It did look nice, he was proud. “So Jin, about the food?”

Jin laughed. “Kimchi. Who’s the kid?” He motioned to Jungkook who stood by them awkwardly.

Hoseok hugged Jungkook from behind. “This is one of my amazing dance students, Jungkook.”

Jin and Namjoon introduced themselves and then eagerly dove into the food. “Sorry Jungkook,” Jin apologized. “We didn't think there would be another one of us.”

“I can share with him,” Hobi suggested.

So they settled down at the counter, sharing food and feeding each other samples from their own meals. Yoongi didn't really like the idea of ‘sharing saliva’, but eventually he gave in. Jungkook fit in with them well and even scheduled an appointment to get his tattoo.  
Hours had sped by and soon it was time to close shop. After Yoongi turned out the lights and locked the door, Jungkook asked him, “I have a friend who’s always wanted a tattoo. Can I bring him with me when I get mine?”

Yoongi turned to the boy with a smile. “Of course. I’ll see you guys next week, then.”

~

“Do you ever worry about Yoongi?” Jin looked over at Namjoon, who was struggling to cut up an onion.

“No?” He cursed loudly when he accidentally cut his finger with the knife and washed his hands to clean off the blood. “Should I be worried?”

Seokjin shrugged, throwing the diced onions into the ramen. “I just worry about his relationships with people. I don't even think he wants a partner. Do you know?”

“He does,” Namjoon muttered, hugging Jin from behind as he stirred the ramen. “At least I think so. He doesn't really talk about it much, but I think he was actually in a relationship with Hoseok in high school and college.”

Jin’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to face Namjoon. “Really?”

“Yeah. They broke up when Yoon left college. On good terms, I think.”

“I didn't know that,” he mused, spooning a sample of ramen into Namjoon’s mouth and waiting for a verdict.

He chewed ridiculously slow, dragging out the process until Jin slapped his shoulder. “Hmm. Awesome. It's always good when you make it, babe.”

Jin took on a proud expression, swinging his spoon. “I know.” He leaned in for a kiss and the ramen was quickly forgotten as they moved to the couch.

~

“Hello? Yoongi-hyung? You here?” Jungkook wandered into the parlor, Jimin following him like a nervous puppy.

Hoseok popped up from behind the counter, grinning widely. “Jungkook-ah! Jimin-ah! I didn't know you were coming!”

“Y-Yeah,” Jimin laughed softly, rubbing the back of his head. “Jungkook convinced me.”

“Huh? How do you two know each other?” Jungkook asked, obviously confused by the way his tilted his head.

“Jimin and my friend Taehyung are both art majors, and they share a dorm. Jimin’s usually home when I stop by to see TaeTae.”

“I didn't think he knew you, though,” Jimin said, motioning to Jungkook.

“I met him the last time I was here,” he explained. “Speaking of which, is Yoongi here?”

“He’s getting coffee, but he should be back soon.”

As if on cue the little bell above the door tinkled as Yoongi walked through, letting in a burst of cold air. He was wrapped up in a long black coat that reached down to his knees and had two coffees in each of his gloved hands. “You’re early,” Yoongi stated, handing the cups to Hoseok and shrugging his coat off.

“S-Sorry,” Jungkook stuttered. “We got out of class early, so we decided to come by. I brought my friend Jimin.”

Yoongi whipped around immediately from where he was hanging his coat up, looking from Hoseok to Jungkook and finally his eyes rested on Jimin. He was cute. Yoongi wrinkled his nose at that, he hadn't thought of anyone as cute in quite a while. But he was cute, with large doe eyes, full pink lips, and nice legs shown off through his tight leather skinny jeans. Yoongi forced himself out of his thoughts and stuck a hand out to the boy. “I'm Yoongi. You here for a tattoo?”

Jimin shook his hand with a small smile and said, “Maybe. I'm here to watch Jungkook. I've always wanted one, just never had the guts to actually do it.” He laughed nervously, running a hand through his pink hair. “I bet you get indecisive guys like me all the time, huh?”

“Yeah, but they usually come around,” Yoongi smirked. There was a small burn in his cheeks, but Yoongi diverted his attention to his cup of coffee, sipping tentatively. “You want a drink?” He motioned to the red mini fridge. “It's not coffee, but at least it's something.”

Jimin settled down on the couch with a coke, flipping through the photo books for inspiration while Yoongi showed Jungkook the final draft of his tattoo. Jungkook had decided on getting a small moon right in between his shoulder blades, and in only a few minutes he had tugged his shirt off and Yoongi had stamped the template on his olive skin. He observed it in the mirror, smiling. “Looks awesome, hyung.”

“Good, go ahead and lay down.” Yoongi motioned to the table and helped him into a comfortable position. He prepared Jungkook’s skin and quickly started on the outlining. Jungkook winced at the pain, biting his lip. “The pain will get better once you get used to it,” Yoongi assured, pulling the buzzing needle away from his skin for a moment, allowing the younger boy to recover.

After half an hour Jimin wandered over to them and sat down in one of the swivel chairs, pulling it up so he could sit next to Jungkook. “It looks really cool, Kookie.” He said, smiling down at the tattoo. “You’re really talented Yoongi hyung.”

“You're an art major, right Jimin?” Yoongi asked, smiling shyly at the compliment.

“I am, It's my senior year.”

“Finish the year and you’re free,” Yoongi laughed. “You have any idea what you wanna do after?”

Jimin shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I don't really know,” he confessed with a nervous twist of his fingers. “I've always wanted to work as a graphic designer.”

“That's good. You don't have to know what you want to right away, anyway. You have plenty of time.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty four. I graduated a little early two years ago.”

“Oh.” The way he smiled made Yoongi feel very exposed.

And he was exposed in some way. Yoongi was wearing a white T-shirt with the arm holes cut out so low that you could his ribs and his thin stomach. Jimin seemed to notice that as well, but quickly looked back to Jungkook. “Do you think you might get a tattoo now?” Yoongi asked, wiping away the blood.

There was a long pause before he answered. “I don't know. I know exactly what I want, I just don't want the commitment.” He smiled in embarrassment. “That sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

“No, I was like that, too,” Yoongi assured. “It took me over a year to muster up the courage to actually get one.”

“Yeah!” Hoseok yelled from across the room where he was flipping through a Playboy magazine. “He even asked me if I could get one with him. What a coward.” Yoongi decided to ignore this, rolling his eyes.

An hour later Jungkook’s tattoo was done and wrapped up. Yoongi went over the procedures on how to take care of it and soon he and Jimin were leaving the parlor. “I’ll call you if I decide to get one,” Jimin said, opening the door.

“No pressure.” Yoongi didn't know why he felt the need to add that. Maybe it was Jimin’s small body or the way he smiled nervously.

“Bye everyone!” Jungkook called, thanking Yoongi again.

When he was cleaning up his inks and wiping down the chair, Hoseok sauntered over to him with a smirk plastered on his face.  
“What do you want?” Yoongi asked voice tinged with annoyance.

“What’d you think of Jimin?” He asked slyly.

Yoongi looked up at him with an unimpressed expression. “What does it matter to you?”

“I've never seen you so…” He thought for a moment. “Vanilla.”

Yoongi coughed loudly, banging his fist on his chest. “Excuse me?”

Hoseok chuckled, grabbing his coat off the stand and throwing it on. “I’ll see you soon, Yoon.”

Yoongi was left, baffled, in the middle of his studio.

 

~Two weeks later~

The business had picked up, thanks to Hoseok’s efforts to spread the word amongst his friends and Yoongi’s endless flyers stapled on every telephone pole in Seoul. He had at least two customers every day, and the numbers were growing steadily. Soon there were four customers every day, then five, and Yoongi was happier than he had ever been.  
He was just finishing up with a lady who had gotten wings tattooed on her shoulders when the bell above the door tinkled softly and Yoongi’s gaze was met with a pair of soft doe eyes.

“Hey Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin greeted with a shy smile.

“Jimin!” Yoongi practically fell off his chair. “How are you?”

“Good. I’ll wait on the couch, go ahead and finish up.”

“Okay.” Yoongi kept a steady hand as he finished. Ten minutes later he pulled off his rubber gloves with a proud nod, clipping the woman’s bra back and wrapping the tattoo in plastic. He finished instructing her on how to properly take care of the tattoo as she pulled her shirt on and then they made their way to counter where she paid him and gave endless praise to his artistic ability. Yoongi dismissed it with a humble wave.

When she had finally left, he turned to Jimin who was on the couch tapping away on his phone.

“Hey,” Yoongi said awkwardly.

Jimin’s head snapped up to the voice, locking his phone. “Oh, s-sorry,” he laughed, standing up. “How are you?”

Yoongi nodded. “I'm well. Did you decide to get that tattoo?”

“Yeah,” Jimin said proudly.

“You know what you want, right? Let's go over to my desk.” They made their way behind the counter to his cluttered desk where they sat down. Yoongi took out a piece of clean paper and held a pencil expectantly. “What were you thinking?”

Jimin hesitated before digging around in his pocket and pulling out a used condom wrapper.

Yoongi dropped his pencil and bit his lip, confused. Surely Jimin didn't want a condom wrapper tattooed on his body? But Yoongi waited nervously as he slowly unfolded the crushed packaging, showing Yoongi a word scribbled on the wrapper. The handwriting was messy, looking as if it was written in sharpie. _REMEMBER._

“I don't know if this is possible,” Jimin started, voice cracking nervously. “I want this word just like it’s written on here.” He tapped the wrapper for emphasis. “But circle it and draw a line through it.”

Yoongi picked up his pencil again, writing the word ‘Remember’, circling it, then drawing a line diagonally through it. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Jimin breathed. “Exactly.”

“I can scan the writing and then make the stencil. Do you want it today?”

“Whenever is fine, I'm not in a rush.”

“It won't take long, it's a simple design.” They talked about the design for a while, modifying the size and colors. An hour later, Yoongi pressed the stencil just below Jimin’s collarbone.

The tattoo itself confused Yoongi, especially since the writing had been scribbled on a condom wrapper. He was curious, to say the least. Normally Yoongi would have thought it was his right to know the story he was painting on someone’s body, but for some reason, Yoongi hesitated before he asked him a personal question.

Jimin flinched as the needle pressed into his skin, letting out a quiet sound of distress. Yoongi worried his bottom lip, some people had more pain tolerance than others. A few minutes of inking had declared his pain tolerance was closer to zero. Yoongi pulled his pen back, eyeing the red skin. He took two gloved fingers and rubbed the skin gently, easing the pain. “Take a break for a second,” Yoongi said, keeping his fingers massaging at the skin. “The pain will get better, I promise.”

“I'm okay,” Jimin said, embarrassed at Yoong’s touch. _He does this to all his customers_ , Jimin had to remind himself.

So Yoongi started again, pressing the needle into his skin and wiping away the blood every few seconds. After a few minutes of silence bordering on uncomfortable, Yoongi finally had the nerve to ask, “So what does this tattoo mean? Was it an old partner?”

Jimin flinched slightly, not missed by Yoongi. “No. It wasn't a partner.” The emotion of his voice was undetectable. Yoongi thought he heard the pain in there somewhere.

“Sorry, you don't have to talk about it,” he apologized quickly. “Some things are too personal to talk about, I get it.”

“Thanks,” Jimin said after a moment, voice a little guilty. “But would you want to tell me about your tattoos while you slice my skin open?”

Yoongi snorted loudly. “Sure.” He showed Jimin his wrist which said RELIEF and then turned back down to the tattoo as he explained. “This was my first tattoo. I used to be embarrassed to talk about because it was kind of personal, but now everyone pretty much knows about it.” He went silent for a minute as he focused on a difficult part of the inking, then continued. “It was after I had run away from my parents. I had never been on good terms with them, and so I ran away to Busan. I met my first boyfriend there, and I felt so much… relief. That's the only way to describe it.” He shrugged.

Yoongi didn't usually open up about things, but when it came to his tattoos, that was a different story. He didn't mind sharing every story about the pieces of art on his body, they were on display for everyone to see, after all. Yoongi tattooed on his body what he wanted people to know. If it wasn't somewhere on his body, you wouldn't know about it. Yoongi was a simple man.

Jimin’s face softened at Yoongi’s story. “That's nice.”

Finding he was actually interested in his stories, Yoongi talked about as many tattoos as he could before he finished Jimin’s. After he was done, he helped the pink haired boy stand up and look in the mirror after he was finished wrapping it.

“Yoongi hyung,” Jimin gasped, turning to him happily. “It looks amazing. You have incredible talent.”

“I'm glad you like it.” Yoongi allowed a small smile to play on his lips. They walked to the front desk where Jimin paid and Yoongi explained how to take care of the tattoo.

“Thank you again, hyung.”

"No problem, it was fun."

"I'll, uh, see you later," Jimin said shyly.

“You know who to call when you want another one,” Yoongi said, smiling.

“Of course, I wouldn't go to anyone else.” Jimin threw his coat on and bound out the door, waving happily at Yoongi.  
And Yoongi couldn't help the small pang in his chest. What did that tattoo mean?


	2. Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read carefully; Mentions of rape and a slight panic attack

The depression had gotten worse, even Hoseok had started to notice. Yoongi couldn't sleep, he constantly had dark rings around his eyes. He had trouble eating sometimes, or other times he would eat too much and throw up. It was a rapid cycle that didn't seem to end after a few months.  
Yoongi slammed his hand on the alarm clock, cutting off the beeping that had been annoying him for the past fifteen minutes. He groaned. He had only gotten about three hours of sleep last night.

Yoongi could hear Namjoon speaking with someone in the other room, probably Jin. He pulled himself out of bed, feet dragging as he shuffled to the shower. He dressed slowly, looking in the mirror and cringing at the sight of his dead expression. He was relatively happy earlier, but then the depression hit hard, knocking the wind right out of Yoongi. It's not like anything bad had happened either, it was just a mental health problem.

“-and a box of star stickers,” Yoongi heard Jin say as he trudged into the kitchen. He didn't catch the first part of that sentence. “Oh, hey Yoon.”

Yoongi just grunted in response, turning the coffee pot on. It was too early for conversation.

Jin rolled his eyes, turning back to Namjoon. “Hoseok and I helped him put them all over his ceiling. He really likes the new apartment.”

“That's good,” Namjoon smiled. “I'm glad I could help.”

“What are you talking about?” Yoongi asked, curiosity poking the edge of his mind.

“Ah, finally interested? We’re talking about Jimin.” Jin worked his way around the kitchen as he talked. He took out a pan and placed it on the stove and Yoongi hoped that he was making breakfast. Everyone loved Jin’s cooking. “Nams helped him find a flat in the city.”

“What, are you a realtor now?” Yoongi laughed dryly. Both of Namjoon’s parents were very successful realtors, and he was constantly being pressured to follow in their footsteps.

“Over my dead body,” Namjoon muttered. “Hoseok told me that his friend was looking for a new apartment and so I asked my parents about it. They knew of one and so I showed Jimin. So, no, not a realtor.”

Yoongi stuck up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, Namjoon.”

“You know Jimin?” Jin asked, cracking an egg into the pan expertly.

“Yeah, I tattooed him,” Yoongi said, trying to keep his voice emotionless.

“Isn't he just the cutest?” Jin giggled.

“No. Not at all. His eyes are different sizes.”

Namjoon snorted which caused Jin to shoot him a disappointed glare. “Yoongi’s heartless.”

“As if we didn't already know that,” Namjoon smirked.

“Shut the hell up.” Yoongi poured himself a cup of coffee, relishing for a moment in the smell.

“Jimin talked about you,” Jin said matter-of-factly, and Yoongi almost choked.

“What?”

Jin smiled knowingly, flipping his egg. “Yeah. He said you were really talented. He even asked me to bring him along the next time I visit you.”

“He did?”

“He did,” Jin smirked at the pan. “Can I come over today? I'm off work.”

“If you bring food.”

“Or Jimin?”

“No, just food. By the way, is that my egg?”

“Not particularly. It’ll be yours if I can bring Jimin along.”

Yoongi groaned. “Fine. Asshole.”

Jin grinned, throwing the egg over a plate and handing it to Yoongi proudly. “Enjoy, peaches.”

Yoongi cringed at the pet name. “Save that for Namjoon, peaches.”

 

~

 

“Yoongi-ah!” Jin sang, kicking the door of the parlor open. “I brought food~” He stopped immediately when he saw Yoongi bent over a customer’s arm, electric pen buzzing. His minty hair clashed with the loose red T-shirt that hung off his body and his grey skinny jeans.

Yoongi looked up for a second- first rolling his eyes at Jin and then nodding to Jimin- and he looked back down.

His stomach jolted when he looked at Jimin. The boy was obviously trying to seduce him. He sported ripped black jeans that squeezed his thighs attractively and an almost see-through white shirt that was tucked into his pants. He bit his bottom lip as he waved shyly at Yoongi. “Hi guys,” Yoongi called. “I’ll be done in a moment.”  
He finished up with his current customer, going through the procedures and soon the man was out the door with a “thank you”. Yoongi yawned, stretching his arms to the ceiling before he turned back towards the boys eating on the couch. “Hope you saved me some,” he said, sitting down at the coffee table and digging through the plastic bag of take out.

“There’s some mackerel pie in there,” Jin said with a mouth full of rice, pointing with his chopsticks.

Yoongi found it quickly, digging in without a second thought. He may have been in a bad mood today (maybe even a little too snappy with the customers), but all that was momentarily fixed with mackerel. He closed eyes and groaned at the amazing food. “Seokjin I love you so much. Feel free to visit whenever,” Yoongi gushed through a mouthful of food. “So Jimin, I heard you got a new flat?”

Jimin nodded. “I had to move out of Tae’s apartment.”

“Really? Why?”

“I love Tae with all my heart, don't get me wrong,” Jimin laughed, carding a hand through his pink hair. “But he’s got a new girlfriend and I didn't wanna live with her. Or hear them every night.”

Yoongi snorted. “That's relatable,” he said, looking at Jin with a smirk. “I hear Nams and Jin going at it all night. I almost wanna move out, but Jin makes really good breakfast the next morning.”

Jin blushed furiously, putting his head in his hands. “Shut up.”

“How do you deal with it, hyung?” Jimin joked.

“Well,” Yoongi started in mock seriousness. “First I tried drowning out the sounds with music, but Namjoon didn't like hearing heavy metal blasting through the walls when they were having a romantic moment, so then I tried ear plugs and that didn't work- neither did headphones- so now I just listen to it.”

Jimin grinned at Jin’s disgusted look. “Great,” muttered Jin. “You could always leave the house or something.”

“Too much work,” Yoongi said with a sly smile. He knew Jin was embarrassed at this sort of thing.

Over an hour of nice conversation and making Jin choke in embarrassment, they finished their meal. Jimin was sweet, that was the only way to describe him. Yoongi thought he was almost too sweet, but it was a nice change; He could always use a little positivity in his life. Yoongi usually felt drowned in his depression, but Jimin was the light at the end of the tunnel. His shy smile and childlike hands. His huge eyes and soft body. Yoongi almost gagged at his sappy thoughts. What the hell am I thinking?

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Jimin thanked Yoongi.

“See you tonight,” Jin called.

“Tonight?” Yoongi didn't remember making any plans with him.

“Namjoon invited me over,” Jin smirked.

Yoongi groaned, throwing his head back. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“You wanna come to a party with me tonight?” Jimin asked quickly. Yoongi froze. Did Jimin just invite him to a party? “I mean, if you don't want to that's okay. I totally understand.”

“At least it would get me out of the house,” Yoongi said slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I'm always up for a party.”

Seokjin shot him a glance that said, _When are you ever up for a party, you depressed ass?_ But thankfully he kept his mouth shut.  
Jimin’s smile lit up the whole room as Yoongi pulled out his phone. “Give me your number so you can text me the information,” Yoongi said casually, going to the contacts app and handing his phone to the younger boy. Jimin obliged happily, typing quickly on the screen.

“Here. I’ll text you tonight.”

Yoongi glanced at the screen. ChimChim. ChimChim _?_

~

 _[6:33]_ ChimChim _: Hi Yoongi!_

_[6:35] Yoongi: hey._

_[6:35]_ ChimChim _: A college friend invited me to her penthouse party_

 _[6:35]_ ChimChim _: tonight 10:00_

 _[6:36]_ ChimChim _: Want me to pick you up?_

_Yoongi’s stomach lurched. He didn't want Jimin to pick him up. He didn't need this right now._

_[6:39] Yoongi: no, just send me the address_

_[6:39]_ ChimChim _: kay :)_

Something about the conversation angered Yoongi, making him thrust both his hands in his hair. Why was he going to a party with some guy he didn't even know? Why did he even care about the kid? He shouldn't even be in be in a relationship, not after his last one. His last relationship with a man he had met at his old tattoo parlor had left him emotionally ruined. And a little more depressed than usual.  
Despite the voice inside his head that screamed at him to stay home and listen to Jin and Namjoon all night, Yoongi arranged an uber to pick him up around 10. He didn't want to be early to this party.

 

~

How did I get myself into this? Yoongi thought as he reached out and plucked the joint from between Jimin’s fingers. He took a long drag, holding the breath in his lungs for a while before blowing it towards the night sky. He and Jimin were both lying on the penthouse roof, looking up at the dark sky and freezing their asses off. At least the joint warned him up a little. But the heat was empty.

“I don't know why you came with me,” Jimin said quietly.

Yoongi wondered what that meant, handing the joint blindly back Jimin. “Neither do I. I don't usually like parties?”

“Why?”

“A lot of reasons.”

“Like what?”

Yoongi grunted, rolling over to watch Jimin. “I don't wanna tell you.”

“Why?”

Yoongi frowned. Because it was personal and he didn't even know Jimin? “I don't know you.”

Jimin looked at him with a sad smile. “Yeah. I wanna know you, though. I like you.”

Yoongi’s high seemed to dissipate within seconds. “I don't.”

“Oh. Okay.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Why?”

Yoongi shrugged, rolling back over. “I just don't like you.”

“Oh.” Jimin sat up, joint smoldering, unused, in his fingers. “I wouldn't like me either.”

“You have a nice body, though.”

Jimin blushed at the compliment. “That sound like you like me.”

“Not you, just your body.”

“Just my body?”

“Yeah.”

 

~

 

Yoongi sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of uneaten rice sitting forgotten in front of him. He stared at his phone blankly, opening and closing apps until he became annoyed and shut it off.

“What’s with the mood?” Jin asked, sitting across from him. “You've been really depressed the past few weeks.” Yoongi looked up at him, frowning. He had been in a shitty mood ever since the party. “You okay?”

Yoongi knew Seokjin meant well. He was always looking out for the younger man. He knew about all of Yoongi’s problems- his depression, self-hate, scars from his past relationship. He could tell Jin anything. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You don't sound so okay.”

Yoongi sighed, relaxing his shoulders. “I-I know. I just can't get into another relationship.”

“What? A relationship with who?”

Of course, Jin couldn't read his mind- how was he supposed to know?- but it still irritated Yoongi. He had replayed the same problem in his head for two weeks and thinking about it any more made him sick. But this was Jin, he deserved to know. “Jimin.”

Jin’s eyes became soft as a small smile graced his features. “Ah. Why don't you want to be in a relationship with him?”

“I can't go through the same thing again,” Yoongi said, voice growing nervous. He wasn't good with words. He couldn't explain the feeling to Seokjin.

“Do you think Jimin would do that to you?”

Stupid Jin making him think. “That's exactly what I thought about Taemin, but he still fucked me up and lept me like garbage,” Yoongi hissed.

“Calm down. I'm not saying you should be with Jimin, you can do whatever you think is best.” He paused, obviously choosing his words carefully. “But you can't cut everyone else off because of one guy.”

“I'm not ready,” Yoongi clarified, tone low and angry.

“Okay,” Seokjin sighed. “I'm sorry. I just want you to feel better.”

“I'm going to feel better tonight.” Seokjin’s brows creased together questioningly, so Yoongi clarified. “Will you and Namjoon come to a club with Hoseok and I tonight?”

“Sure,” Jin said slowly, a question still in his tone, but thankfully he didn't press the matter. “You know Yoongi, Christmas is only in seven days.”

“So?”

“Are you going to back to Daegu to see your family? I'm sure they miss you.”

“No,” Yoongi said immediately. “I'm staying in Seoul. What about you?”

“Namjoon and I were thinking about going to see his side of the family. They haven't met me yet.”

“Ah. That's exciting.” Yoongi’s voice was anything but exciting. Both Namjoon and Jin were going to be out of town? Hoseok was traveling to America over the holidays to see a bunch of dance shows in New York City. Yoongi was going to be alone for Christmas.

“I'm sorry, Yoons.”

Yoongi hated the sympathy in the man’s voice, but he shoved the ‘Alone for Christmas’ problem out of his head and focused on tonight instead. He wanted to get laid. There was a burning desire for sex spreading throughout his body. He went through phases like that sometimes, where he just needed to get laid quick. Most of the time in college he would use Hoseok as an outlet for that. Even before that- before he and Hoseok were together- they had the whole friends with benefits thing going. It was nice, Yoongi thought. The fucked a lot, and Yoongi had adapted to all of Hoseok’s weird-ass kinks over the years. They had to break it off after Yoongi graduated college because they both realized their feelings for each other were completely platonic.

“Are you sleeping around, Yoongi?”

“Huh?” The sudden question caught him off guard. Why did Jin care anyway? Yoongi could take care of himself. “No, why?”

Jin shrugged. “You become more depressed when you’re sleeping around. I don't know, but it sounded like you wanna get laid tonight.”

“I do,” Yoongi admitted.

Jin frowned. “I don't know how you’re okay with one night stands.”

“It's different for me, I guess.” Over the years Yoongi had learned to open up around Jin, and now it just came naturally. “I do better with one night stands than an actual relationship. It's different for you because you have Namjoon.” Yoongi sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Namjoon’s so good to you, I wish I had someone like that.”

Jin’s features softened remarkably and he reached for Yoongi’s hand across the table. “You could find someone like that, Yoongi.”

“I can't trust anyone anymore,” he said quietly, lowering his gaze.

Namjoon walked into the kitchen half naked, rubbing his face sleepily. All he wore were a pair of boxers with little koalas on them. “Hey babe,” Jin piped, grinning up at the half-asleep man. “I made breakfast.”

“It smells amazing,” he yawned. “Thank you.” His neck was scattered with hickies, and Yoongi noticed the pink blemishes extending down on his chest. His back looked pretty scratched up, too.

“Rough night?” Yoongi observed smugly.

Namjoon just glared at him as he spooned mounds of rice into a bowl. “Shut up. Don't you have to go to work or something?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but he didn't miss the way his stomach lurched at the way Jin had showered him with affection. Why didn't he have that kind of relationship with someone? “I'm leaving, I'm leaving,” Yoongi chuckled, standing up and grabbing his wallet. “See you guys tonight.”

He flew out of the apartment and towards the subway station before he could look at Namjoon’s neck any more. Yoongi’s had hickies before, it's not some foreign concept to him. But his hickies were different from Namjoon’s. His were put there by people that didn't love him, people that just used his body. Taemin was like that, Yoongi thought. Taemin would suck his skin, bite it harshly, but he wouldn't say sorry or kiss the spot afterward- he would just smirk against Yoongi’s skin like his main goal was to hurt him. Hoseok wasn't as ruthless (not at all, actually), but Hoseok didn't love him- they were just fuckbuddies. But Namjoon’s were different, more intimate.

Yoongi was once again reminded how fucked Taemin had left him. He didn't use to have these weird thoughts about different types of emotional hickeys on the way to work. It was a weird thing to think about on the subway.

He unlocked the door to the parlor with a sigh, dropping his wallet on the desk. He was booked for today, a whopping seven customers in total. He didn't understand how so many people could want tattoos so close to Christmas, but at least he was getting more business. Yoongi flicked on the lights and cranked the heat up because it seemed to have gotten cold overnight and he had left the heat off the previous night.  
The day sped by quickly. He enjoyed his job, and he really started to enjoy himself when a young man stumbled into the parlor with his girlfriend (the two were obviously drunk) and declared they were getting matching tattoos. So Yoongi tattooed their partner's name on each of their butts- warning them that they might regret it- but they seemed pretty set on this drunk tattoo, and Yoongi wasn't about to decline a job opportunity.  
When he was taking his lunch break, his phone rang with a notification. Hoseok had sent him a selfie from his dance class where Jungkook was seen behind him pulling a funny face. Hoseok’s random selfies were quite normal these days, and Yoongi would be lying if he said he didn't like them.

_Yoongi: Say hi to Jungkook for me_

HOPEEE _: Sure!!!_

HOPEEE _: He says hi back :)_

Yoongi wanted to talk to Hoseok about his thoughts on hickies, but now was not the time. Yoongi had been thinking about sex all day, and it hadn't been good either. He hadn't had very good experiences in that department, and most of the time when he thought of sex, he thought of Taemin. And that pushed him to the edge.

 ~

_Taemin’s two fingers were heavy on Yoongi’s tongue. He didn't even want them there, but Taemin had pushed them in while his mouth was open in a strangled sob. “Shh,” Taemin cooed, voice sickly sweet. “Don't be so loud, Yoongi.” Yoongi couldn't do anything, his body was frozen. Taemin jerked into him painfully; the man hadn't bothered to prepare Yoongi or stretch him out beforehand._   
_Yoongi felt a tear on his cheek when he squeezed his eyes shut._

 

“Hey!”  
Yoongi jerked his tattooing pen off the man’s back in a quick motion. He had zoned out. Yoongi had zoned out while tattooing someone. “Sorry, are you okay?”

 

~

 

“You what?” Hoseok gasped.

“I zoned out while tattooing someone and I screwed up the ink. I had to find a way to cover up the mistake. He was really angry so I told him he didn't have to pay.”

“Oh my gosh,” Hoseok sighed, taking a long sip of beer. “I can't believe you.”

“The end product looked really good, actually,” Yoongi said defensively.”I could have made him pay.”

“What were you thinking about?” Namjoon inquired, quirking his eyebrows. “Jimin and his god-like legs?”

“Taemin,” Yoongi answered, loving the way Namjoon’s mouth snapped shut and the way Jin obviously smacked him under the table.

“Oh.” It was Hoseok who broke the awkward silence that lasted for what seemed like a century.

“Do you think about him a lot?” Jin asked voice calm and understanding which was a way of him saying You don't have to answer the question if you don't want to, we understand.

But Yoongi was comfortable around his friends- more than anyone else- so he decided to tell the truth. “Not really,” Yoongi admitted, taking a long sip of his beer. God knows he needed it. “But ever since Jimin showed up…” he paused, wondering how this would sound to his friends. “Taemin had been popping up in my mind more often.”

“Do you like Jimin?” Hoseok asked.

Yoongi shrugged, averting his eyes. “I don't know Jimin.” Yoongi gracefully left out the part about Jimin telling him he wants to get to know Yoongi better when they were laying on a penthouse roof getting high.

“But,” Namjoon probed.

“But,” Yoongi repeated, eyebrows creasing in confusion. But? “But I think I want to see him again.”

Jin cooed at him, which earned him a death glare from the mint-haired man. “That's sweet, Yoons.” _I'm not sweet,_ Yoongi thought, but Jin continued before he had time to contemplate it. “You want me to bring him along tomorrow night?”

“To where?”

“You know, I was thinking about getting a tattoo,” Jin said simply. Namjoon choked on his beer and Hoseok looked dumbfounded as he repeatedly slammed a hand on Namjoon’s back.

“What?” Namjoon coughed.

Jin grinned. “Yeah. What do you think, Yoongi?”

“Are you just doing this to set Jimin and I up?” Yoongi deadpanned. “Or do you actually want one?”

“I really want one! Jimin’s just a bonus for you.” Jin smirked. “I've been thinking about it for a few months now.”

“You know what you want?” Yoongi was getting excited, he loved tattooing his friends and loved designing them even more.

“Yeah. I was thinking about a dove. I want it on the side of my ribs.”

“That would be cool!” Yoongi said.

Namjoon was looking at his boyfriend with nothing but adoration in his eyes, and that's when Yoongi remembered Namjoon had a dove tattoo on his foot. “Oh my gosh,” Yoongi gaped. “You want to get matching tattoos.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Jin blushed furiously, burying his head in Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Aww,” Hoseok cried. “That's so sweet!”  
Yoongi suddenly didn't want to get laid anymore and he stood up abruptly. “Yoongi?” Namjoon question, voice growing worried.

“I'm going to go,” Yoongi said, grabbing his coat off the back of his seat and throwing it on.

“Why? What about the club? Are you okay?” Namjoon had suggested they go out to eat at a bar and then go to a club later that night, but Yoongi had different ideas.  
Yoongi turned back to them with a small smile. “I'm great. Go on without me, kay? I don't feel like getting laid tonight.”

“Huh?” Jin wondered aloud. “Where are you going?”

“To the studio. I'm going to design your new tattoo. Oh, and don't forget to bring Jimin tomorrow,” Yoongi said, practically flying out of the restaurant after giving Hoseok a kiss on the top of his head. “Bye everyone.”

The three boys were left in their booth, baffled, with Hoseok holding a hand to the top of his head where Yoongi had planted a kiss. “He’s whipped,” Namjoon stated loudly.

“You think that was about Jimin?” Hoseok asked.

“What else could it be about?” Jin smiled.  

~

Jin was just walking out of work when he remembered to call Jimin. He needed to ask the younger boy to come along with him to get his first tattoo.

“Hello?” Jimin answered. Jin barely recognized the voice, it sounded tired and hoarse.

“Jiminie?” Jin asked, stunned by Jimin’s rough tone. “Are you okay?” Jin walked down the stairs to the subway station, pressing the phone’s speaker closer to his ear.

“Yeah, sorry, I haven't slept in a few days.”

“A few days?” Jin gasped.

Jimin laughed humorlessly from the other end. “I've gotten a few hours here and there.”

“Why?” Jin was in full mother mode, but he didn't really care because Jimin sounded hurt. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

“I'm fine, hyung. Work has just been stressing me out recently, but it's nothing I can't get over.” Jin didn't know where Jimin worked, but he seemed pretty stressed. Maybe an afternoon off at Yoongi’s parlor would help him calm down. Apparently not. “What did you call for?” His voice was returning slowly to its normal sweet tone. “How are you?”

“I'm good,” Jin said, scanning his subway card and standing on the edge of the walkway to wait for the next train. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I'm getting my first tattoo this afternoon,” Jin explained, clamoring into the subway and grabbing the rail above his head. “And I wanted you to come along. It sounds like you need a break.”

“Where are you getting it done?” Jimin asked.

Jin thought it was obvious. “Yoongi’s doing it.”

“Oh,” Jimin breathed. “That makes sense.” There was a long pause. “I don't think I should come.”

“Oh. Why?” Maybe he shouldn't have asked, Jin thought, but he wanted to know what was bothering the younger man.

“Yoongi hyung…” Jimin paused again, sighing audibly. “He doesn't really like me.”

“Of course he does!” Jin said quickly.

“Hyung, he doesn't. Trust me.”

So Jin spent the whole subway ride convincing Jimin that- while he doesn't exactly understand Yoongi’s feelings or motives- the mint-haired man made it obvious that he wanted Jimin at the tattoo parlor when Jin came.

Jimin grudgingly agreed, saying that he was just coming for Jin, not Yoongi.

 

 

“Yoongi, I'm here,” Jin announced, walking through the door and peeling off his coat. Yoongi gave a greeting grunt from his desk behind the counter so Jin sat down next to him. “Jimin will be here in a little while.” When Yoongi didn't say anything about that, Jin asked, “How’s the design coming?”

“Good,” Yoongi said quietly, shuffling through his papers to show Seokjin his rough draft. It was a simple outline of a dove like Namjoon’s, except this one was pink.

Jin smiled. “I like it a lot. I love the pink.”

“It doesn't have to be pink, we could change it to something else,” Yoongi reminded him.

“No, this is really great, Yoons.” He touched the paper tenderly. “Let's do it.”

Yoongi flashed him a gummy smile. “Okay, let me make the stencil.”

When Yoongi finished and pressed the purple ink of the stencil to the side of Jin’s rib cage, Jin attempted conversation. “Jimin said you didn't like him.” Jin tried to sound casual, but his eyes were betraying him. “Did something happen?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed as he moved Jin to the mirror so he could observe the stencil. “Kind of. How do you like it?”

“It looks really good,” Jin said, lifting his arm up to marvel at it. “So what happened?”

“He invited me to a party,” Yoongi said simply. “Lay down on your back and put your arm up here.” He motioned Jin around and lifted his arm up so Yoongi could gain full access to the template. He prepared Jin’s skin and his tattoo gun. “We got high and I told I didn't like him.”

“Seriously?” Jin sighed, exasperated at Yoongi’s stupid antics. “When are you going to confess that you don't hate him?”

He shrugged. “Maybe today. But I still don't know him that well.” He dipped the tattoo gun in the pink ink and snapped on black rubber gloves.

“Today?” Jin gasped.

“Yeah.” Yoongi rubbed the skin one more time before holding the pen right above Jin’s pale skin. “You nervous, old man?”

“What, about the tattoo?” Jin laughed. “Not really. But you confessing to Jimin, yes, I'm nervous.”

“Huh? Why? Shouldn't I be the nervous one?” Truth be told, Yoongi felt more nervous than he had in years. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling towards Jimin, but he wanted to explore that feeling. He was sick of thinking of Taemin, Jimin was a good substitute.

“I just,” Jin started, flinching when the needle pressed into his skin. “I just want the best for Jimin.”

Yoongi pulled back, offended. “You don't think I’ll give him the best?”

“No!” Jin said quickly. “He’s just not…” Jin paused and started over. “You can't treat him like a one night stand.”

Neither of them heard the bell tinkle above the door because Yoongi was already spewing out words like a broken water fountain.

“Jin, you act like I didn't learn anything from my experience with my ex. Like all of that was for nothing. I don't treat people like fucking nightstands anymore. It's far above sexual attraction. Do you understand that I don't just want to fuck him?”

“Shit, Yoongi,” Jin breathed. Yoongi pressed the needle back into his skin. “I'm sorry. I didn't think you really wanted a rela-” Jin and Yoongi both stopped what they were doing and looked up quickly when they heard a loud BLING.

It was Jimin’s phone notifying him that he had a text. Yoongi felt burning heat spread across his face. Jimin looked too worse for ware. He was wearing sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that looked oddly hot hanging off his figure. His eyes had a barely visible ring around them like he hadn't slept in days. “Jimin-ah!” Seokjin peeped, voice cracking.

“Sorry, I should have said something,” Jimin said, looking straight at Yoongi. There was something about his voice that made Yoongi shiver. Jimin didn't seem shy or embarrassed, the cute side of him was completely gone. And it worried Yoongi.

A natural instinct to protect the younger boy kicked in and Yoongi fought the urge to stand up and run over to him. “I'm here for Jin,” Jimin explained and pointed to the man laying on the chair.

“Right. You can come over here with him.” Yoongi continued silently, not missing the way Jin shot him a warning glance. Yoongi couldn't suppress the question bubbling up in his throat, and before he could think twice, it came out. “How much did you hear?”

Jimin made serious eye contact with Yoongi. That was all the answer he needed, but Jimin quietly said, “A lot of it. I didn't mean to hear.” After a moment of only buzzing from the tattoo gun, he felt the urge to add, “I'm sorry.”

Yoongi only hummed in response. He finished up with Jin rather quickly, the tattoo had close to zero detail. The conversation remained between Jin and Jimin only, and Yoongi felt like wallpaper. After spraying down the tattoo and wrapping it up, Jin wrapped Yoongi in a bone-crushing hug when he saw the finished product in the mirror. “It looks amazing,” Jin praised. “Thank you so much.”

Yoongi tried his best to force a smile. “No problem.”

“How much do I owe you?” Jin asked, patting his jean pockets for his wallet.

Yoongi waved him off. “This one’s on me.”

“What? No, I can't let you do that!” Jin complained.

“You can, and you will. Think of it as my Christmas present to you.” Yoongi patted Jin’s shoulder and started to clean his station.

“Thank you again, Yoongi. You really are talented.” Jin gave him a big bear hug, only flinching a little at the pain in his rib. He leaned down to whisper in Yoongi’s ear, quiet enough that Jimin wouldn't hear. “Talk to him?”

Yoongi was about to respond with an, I’ll try, but Jimin cut him off. “I’ll be going hyung. I have work tonight. Bye.”

“Oh! Jiminie-” Jin was cut off by the sound of the bell tinkling above the door. The two older men watched Jimin walk down the sidewalk outside the window. The pink haired boy disappeared out of sight, leaving a both baffled and angry Yoongi.

“Fuck!” Yoongi fumed, thrusting a hand through his hair. “ _Fuck_!”

“What happened to make him hate you so much?” Jin asked, brows creasing in worry.

Yoongi knew his words at the party were completely out of line. You can't just tell someone you only like their body. Yoongi was mad at himself for thinking like that. Mad because that’s something that Taemin would have done, not him. And he didn't think that anymore, Jimin was more than a sex icon.  
Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temple. “I have my last appointment in an hour and then I'm going out.”

“Going out where?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Who knows, I just need to get out. See you later, hyung.”

Jin looked like he wanted to say something else, but he realized Yoongi needed to be alone, and just settled for patting his shoulder. “Just… just take care of yourself, Yoongi.”

“Of course. Bye.”

Jin left with a small smile and an equally small wave. Yoongi stood there, just watching the door until he became frustrated and threw himself on the couch. He groaned, and his thoughts couldn't stray from Jimin. Every sense was set on remembering the pink haired boy, the way his hips moved and how his lips spread into a grin.

Eventually, Yoongi had to pick himself off the couch and shuffle to the front desk. He looked over the instructions for his next customer names Jisu and sterilized the needles.

“Umm-Um,” a girl stuttered from she was standing by the front desk.

“Oh!” Yoongi gasped, head snapping up from where he was bent over bottles of ink. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Are you Jisu?”

“Yes, Min Yoongi, right?”

“I'm the man,” he said with a gummy smile, making his way to the front desk to show her the stencil design. It was a simple flower, those seemed to be in style nowadays. She really liked the stencil, so Yoongi pressed the purple ink to her wrist. Soon he was starting the inking process, and it turns out the girl had incredible pain tolerance.

“It looks really good so far,” she praised, admiring the first few lines of ink.

“I'm glad you like it.”

“Do you happen to do piercings? I've been thinking about getting a septum piercing, but I haven't found any place I trust enough.”

“Unfortunately I don't, sorry.” Yoongi had been gotten that request a few times already. He should really look into hiring a piercer. “I have a place I can recommend, though.”

So they made small talk for the entirely of the inking process, and then she gushed over tattoo for a whole six minutes after it was done. “This really looks great, Oppa!” she said for what seemed like the 10th time.

“It's really nothing,” he blushed.

She paid him generously for his work, telling him she would definitely be coming back.

“Hope to see you soon,” he smiled, waving as she bound out of the shop with a grin. Yoongi cleaned up and rearranged the inks, before turning off the lights and locking the door of the parlor.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way down the dark street. He didn't really know where to go, he decided he would just walk around until he stumbled across a club or bar. He didn't really feel like getting drunk (or laid), but he needed a quick distraction to get his mind off Jimin.

How stupid could he be? Why would he ever think Jimin would like a guy like him? Yoongi was a tattoo artist, Jimin was perfect. Yoongi destroyed the boy with his words, and now he expected Jimin to return his feelings? He had gotten so hopeful the night before as if Jimin would just nod along with Yoongi. Stupid.

Soon, the mint-haired man found himself in front of a 24/7 cafe. The warm lights from inside cast a soft glow on the sidewalk where he was standing. He hadn't ever been here, but he was feeling tired, and coffee was probably better than soju right now.

When he stepped inside, a warm gust of air hit him, and an equally warm voice chirped, “Hello!”

“Hell-” Yoongi stopped, eyeing the only man at the counter. “Jungkook?”

“Oh! Hi, Yoongi hyung! What are you doing here?”

“I needed some coffee,” Yoongi said, looking around the small cafe. There was only one customer on a corner couch in the back, sitting in front of a laptop with headphones on. “I didn't know you worked here.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook muttered, scratching his head. “The pay really isn't that good, but I got fired from my last job and I needed a quick fix.”

Yoongi snorted. “Fired? What’d you do?”

“They didn't want a gay employee,” Jungkook said shamelessly.

“Oh. That sucks, Jungkook. Sorry for asking.” Yoongi didn't know he was gay, but he did know how hard being gay was in Korea.

“It's fine. My boss here doesn't know about me yet, I wanted to keep it that way until the law changes,” he shrugged. “What can I get you?”

“Large black coffee,” Yoongi said immediately.

“Staying up late?” Jungkook laughed, writing Yoongi’s name on a cup.

“Yeah. I'm not much for sleeping at night.”

Jungkook quirked a brow. “How so?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Dunno, I just can't sleep at night. I sleep during the day instead.”

“Like a vampire,” he pointed out helpfully, showing off a bunny smile.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

“Here you go, hyung. Hope you enjoy.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi paid up but stood around to chat with the boy longer. “Hey, do you know anything about Jimin?”

“Yeah, I'm his friend.”

“Have you seen him recently?”

“It's been a few weeks, we’ve both been really busy with work. Why?”

“No reason, just curious. I've been wondering where he worked?” Truth be told, Yoongi wasn't really wondering where Jimin worked before he walked into the coffee shop, but now it seemed like vital information. Yoongi just might “accidentally” have a “casual” run-in with the pink haired boy if he knew where he worked. _I'm such a creep,_ Yoongi sulked.

“Ah- where Jiminie works?” Jungkook’s eyes were as big as saucers.

“Yeah.”

“O-Oh, why do you want to know?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Just asking.”

Jungkook jumped when the cafe phone rang, saving him from the question. “Sorry, hyung, I have to answer this.”

Yoongi understood this was a good time to leave, so he shot a dark glance at the younger boy before trudging out of the cafe, coffee in hand. Why was Jungkook so secretive about Jimin’s job?

Yoongi was getting angrier and angrier by the minute. He didn't have a chance with Jimin, so why would he even try. Why would he get into another relationship after his last one left him so fucked up it took a whole year to pick his shattered heart from off the floor? He didn't have a fucking chance. He was worthless. Who would want him anyway? _Worthless. Worthless. Worthless!_

He didn't notice he was crying until he felt a warm drop on his cheek. He ducked into the nearest alley where he couldn't be seen and rested his back against the wall. He took his time to breath in and out slowly, like his counselor told him. He didn't need to have a panic attack right now. He was angry at himself for crying over something so minute and angry at Taemin for leaving him with all these problems. He hated Taemin. He loathed Taemin.

His breathing rate was climbing again, but this time breathing exercises wouldn't help him. He hated how he was, but he hated Taemin even more. Taemin… he raped Yoongi, used him, broke him, and then Yoongi never saw him again. One day he was just… gone. He must have left Seoul. Yoongi didn't know why he even left, he had a perfect boy toy and a huge group of friends. Why would he leave?

The day Taemin had left without warning, Yoongi praised the gods for all it was worth. It was an instant relief to be rid of the man, and Yoongi decided he never wanted to see him again. After Taemin left, Yoongi never went back to the club they originally met at. He was scared he might see the man, or even worse, that he would meet someone else exactly like him.

But now Yoongi wanted nothing more than to see Taemin, to punch him in his pretty face, rape him, steal his self-worth. He needed to get back at him. Show him how much he fucked up Yoongi.

He was going to find Taemin and make him pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	3. 하계 and Jimin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took an extremely long time to write because it came out SO LONG. We get a peek of Jimin's secrets in this chapter, so hold on to your hats. I'm planning on updating at LEAST once a week, maybe on either Thursdays or Fridays.  
> (I don't know how to separate the paragraphs so sorry for difficult reading)

The next day, Yoongi didn't open up the tattoo shop. He slept until 4:00 pm. It was the best sleep he’d had in years. He was at peace, he knew exactly what he wanted to do; what he needed to do.

He pulled himself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom to take a shower.Yoongi spent an extra long time under the warm water, letting his mind wander to images of Taemin and occasionally- Jimin. Namjoon would have scolded him for wasting so much water, but he was at work so Yoongi didn't have to worry about that.

Yoongi dressed well, carefully picking out his tightest black jeans and gaudy black boots. He took a risk with his shirt and threw on a fishnet top on top of a cami. It was a daring look, and it was a little scary knowing Taemin would see it. But Yoongi needed to prove to Taemin that he could wear what he wanted and he wasn't scared of how the man would look at his body. He needed to show Taemin he was unaffected by his actions (which he wasn't, but Taemin doesn't need to know that).

Yoongi clasped a choker around his neck and then carefully applied eyeliner around his eyes. He stared at himself in the mirror for a long while; he looked beautiful and elegant. The tattoos that curled up his neck were stark black against his pale skin. His eyes looked like they were drawn on by a manga artist- big and black. The only color on his body was his fading mint hair.

He finally sighed contently and walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. His boots slapped loudly on the tile floors. Yoongi wasn't that hungry, so he settled on sipping on a small bottle of banana milk Namjoon had insisted on buying. Namjoon liked sweet drinks- Yoongi never really understood why anyone would have to live off of something except coffee- but the flavored milk had started to grow on the older boy.

After a while, Yoongi grabbed his wallet and jacket and marched out of the apartment door. He took the subway into the Gangnam district of Seoul. He knew the city like the back of his hand, knew every vein and every street. He used to come to Gangnam for the clubs, but after he met Taemin in one of Gangnam’s illegal strip clubs, he wanted nothing more than to get away from the suffocating city.

Even now, the city felt like it was closing in on Yoongi, but it wasn't as bad as it used to be. He used to get panic attacks the minute he stepped foot in the city, but now it seemed like bittersweet nostalgia. Truth be told, he missed coming here. He missed the smell and he missed the wave of people flooding in and out of the streets.

Yoongi took the alleyways and backstreets to his destination. He passed familiar tattoo shops and even recognized a few faces in the windows. He didn't stop to say hi, just continued on his journey to the shadiest part of the city. After a long while, he arrived at a big black door tucked away in an alley. It was spray painted with the word 하계.

“Hagye,” Yoongi breathed. This was where he met Taemin. This is where his story started. Before he could chicken out and run away, he lifted his fist up and rapped on the door three times.

It was only about 6:30, the club wasn't open yet, so he was surprised when the little slot on the top of the door slid open to reveal a pair of piercing brown eyes. “What the fuck do you want? The club opens at ten- wait… _Yoongi_?”

“Hey, Taeyang.”

“Oh my god, it is you. What are you doing here?” The slot closed and Taeyang opened the door, gaping at Yoongi. “I haven't seen you in forever.”

Yoongi scratched his head, shifting from foot to foot. “I needed to talk to you.”

“Sure, come in.”

Taeyang waved him in, and Yoongi followed him down the dark hallway until they arrived in the main room, a huge dance floor with an equally giant stage. On the stage, multiple poles were scattered about, and Yoongi could practically see all the strippers grinding against them like old times. The images flashed through his mind. He saw visions of drunk girls kissing on the dance floor; the bartender shaking drinks; a man slipping a pill into a cocktail that was meant for someone else.

“Hey, Yoongi!”

Yoongi was jerked from his memories. “Sorry, I sort of zoned out.” They were alone in the club, and it was dark; the neon lights had been shut off. “Nothing’s changed here,” he mused.

“Not much,” Taeyang admitted. “You sure have, though.”

Yoongi glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look good, is what I meant. I never did associate you with fishnets. Or chokers, for that matter” Taeyang flashed a cocky smirk.

“Aren't you engaged?” Yoongi accused.

“Yah! I'm not trying to hit on you!”

“Whatever you say.”

Taeyang rolled his eyes and walked over to the bar. “Wanna drink?”

Yoongi shrugged, following him. “Water will be fine.”

He opened the fridge and threw Yoongi a bottle of water. “So what brought you to Gangnam? I thought you were never coming back to the city.”

“I need to find out some things about a certain someone.”

“Really?” Taemin leaned his elbows on the bar counter. “Who, exactly?”

Yoongi looked him straight in the eyes. “Does Taemin ever come here anymore?”

Taeyang choked.

~

 

“Taemin? Why do you wanna know about him? He left you alone, you shouldn't try and find him again!”

“Who said I was trying to find him?” Yoongi shot. He was trying to find Taemin, yes. “I can take care of myself.”

“You said the same thing when he was fucking you,” he hissed.

Yoongi jerked back. “Shut the fuck up.”

“It's true. You couldn't stand up for yourself.”

Yoongi sighed in defeat. He knew the older man was right. “Okay, okay. I just need to know if he still comes here.”

Taeyang narrowed his eyes but told him anyway. “Sometimes. Some of the strippers complain about him, so we’ve asked him to either dial it back or leave.”

“Do you know when he’s coming back? Will he be here tonight?”

“Easy, tiger. Why do you want to know?”

“That doesn't matter, Taeyang. Just answer the damn question.”

Taeyang pushed a hand through his hair. “My god, okay! Let me check the guest list for tonight.”

Taeyang checked the list- and fortunately (or unfortunately) for Yoongi- Taemin was on it. “So he’s coming tonight?” Yoongi asked for clarification.

“Yes! His name’s on the list, isn't it?” Taeyang said, annoyed.

“Why haven't you kicked him out by now?” Yoongi asked. “If you know he’s harassing the strippers, why don't you do anything?”

“Why haven't you told the police he raped you?” Taeyang asked.

Yoongi’s mouth instantly snapped shut. He hadn't told the police because he was scared Taemin would find out and hurt him even more. And Yoongi didn't need to be hurt by him anymore. “He didn't rape me,” Yoongi finally stuttered out.

“We both know that's a lie,” Taeyang said, voice low.

Yoongi avoided eye contact and twisted his tattooed hands together uncomfortably. “Can I stay here until the club opens?” He asked, trying to cut the tension.

“Sure,” Taeyang sighed. “Don't get into any trouble.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

~

 

The club was starting to fill up. Slowly but surely, more and more people flowed into the main area, and a select few in suits and dresses headed towards the VIP section. The VIP section: That’s where the people with money sat, the people with substantial jobs, the people with connections. That's where Taemin sat.

So, as any sane person would do, Yoongi avoided the VIP section for as long as he could.

The neon lights flashed along the walls and against the metal poles on the stage. The noise was steadily rising as people inhaled more and more alcohol, and the smell of smoke filled the club to the brim. Every once in awhile, a whiff of Marijuana could be detected. People were grinding up against each other, slipping pills into their partner’s mouths, making out. It was a dirty party scene, just the way Yoongi used to like it. Now it just felt… wrong.

Yoongi sauntered over to the bar, deciding to waste time by sipping on a drink. He settled on the bar stool, eyes scanning over the menu on the wall.

“What can I get you, baby?” the bartender asked, leaning over the counter in an effort to seduce Yoongi.

“What do you recommend, baby?” Yoongi played along, letting the pet name roll off his tongue like velvet. True, Yoongi didn't miss this club, but he missed the looks on people’s faces when he flirted back, destroying their attempts to seduce him and flipping it the other way around.

“Depends on how drunk you want to get, peaches.”

Peaches. That was a Namjin pet name, Yoongi thought.

“Not too drunk, babe. Just enough for me not to regret anything,” Yoongi said coyly.

The bartender thought Yoongi was talking about him, but Yoongi was really talking about the regret of smashing Taemin’s face in.

“I-I’ll make you something,” the boy stuttered, fumbling with the glasses sheepishly.

Yoongi chuckled and rolled his eyes. Usually, outside of clubs, Yoongi felt small. He had tattoos; people often looked down on him for that. They accused him of being in a gang or being a criminal. He felt inferior. But here in the club, Yoongi felt powerful.

After the flustered bartender handed Yoongi his drink (some fruity cocktail Yoongi knew he would hate) he made his way to the front of the club and sat at a small table right in front of the stage. The dancers were about to come out, according to the DJ. He swirled the bluish liquid around his glass, keeping his eyes out for Taemin. If the man was following his old schedule, Taemin would arrive just before eleven to see the dancers. Yoongi checked the time on his phone: 10:56.

At midnight, a line of dancers strode out onto the stage and matched up with a pole. Yoongi leaned back in his seat to admire the men and women clad scandalously in lingerie, but his mind was elsewhere: Taemin.

Yoongi was about to give up after twenty minutes- because if Taemin wasn't here by now, he wasn't coming at all- but after hearing a particular wolf whistle he stopped dead in his tracks. Eyes wide, Yoongi’s head snapped to the sound of the voice.

Taemin was at the opposite end of the stage sitting at a table with another man. Yoongi watched Taemin reach up to one of the dancers with a wad of bills in his hand and push them into the strippers waistband.  
…. Jimin’s waistband.

Yoongi had to do a double take to make sure his eyes had not betrayed him. Nope, that was definitely Park Jimin against the pole with his godlike thighs and pink hair. He had the tightest damn pants in the history of pants and he was wearing a fishnet top just like Yoongi, except he didn't have a cami on underneath. Yoongi swore he could see abs underneath that shirt. He glowed.

Jimin winked at Taemin, blowing him a kiss before grinding back against the pole.

Yoongi was repulsed, and it was all he could do not to throw up on one of the dancers. No wonder Jungkook didn't tell Yoongi about Jimin’s job, he’s a fucking stripper.  
And then it all made sense. It all clicked in place. Yoongi had wondered why Jimin was so offended when he told the younger boy he liked his body. That he just liked his body, not Jimin. Jimin probably has people paying him for sex, and they just want his body. They don't want to get to know the boy, they just want a quick fuck.

And it disgusted Yoongi that he had said that to Jimin. He was just as bad as the rest of them. And then Taemin was here, looking at Jimin like a hungry animal, and Yoongi wanted nothing more than to protect Jimin.

But even though Yoongi was about to stomp up to Taemin and shove him into a wall, he reminded himself he only had to wait a few more hours until he got what he wanted. He wasn't going to say hi to Jimin, or let him know he was even here. Yoongi didn't come here for attention, he simply wanted to screw up Taemin and then leave.

Yoongi sighed, getting up from the table and making his way to the club exit. He walked into the crisp winter air, trying to slow his breathing. Seeing Taemin was… odd. And not a good kind of odd.

So Yoongi decided he didn't need to go back inside, and he waited around the corner until Taemin came out of the club. He sat on the curb next to the club’s alleyway and counted cars that sped by. It was a calming procedure his counselor taught him- counting. Yoongi didn't really understand how it was supposed to help, but after the first attempts at counting-away-his-problems, he realized the procedure did a wonderful job at distracting him.

The counting didn't fix everything, though, and Yoongi still pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit it up and took a long drag, inhaling the smoke slowly. The warmth helped him calm down a little, and he felt better about meeting Taemin. How bad could it really be, after all?

Yoongi waited an extremely long time for Taemin to stumble out of the club, and the December air almost sent Yoongi home to dive under his blankets, but thankfully he heard a familiar voice around the corner before he could give up. He checked his phone display; it was four in the morning.

Yoongi heard rustling and a loud grunt from around the corner, and he peeked around the wall curiously. He had to hold in a gasp at what he was seeing.

Jimin had Taemin pinned against the brick wall by his neck.

A look of pure hatred was crystal clear on Jimin’s face as he snarled up at the older man. Yoongi had never seen Jimin look so confident, so angry, so sure of himself. “I told you to fuck off,” Jimin growled, bringing Taemin off the wall and slamming him back in one quick motion.

“You can't tell me what to do, bastard,” Taemin gasped, voice strained from where Jimin’s hands had returned to his neck.

“You’re right, I can't,” Jimin hissed. “But I had orders from a friend to get rid of you, and I promised him you wouldn't come back, but here you are again! Didn't I warn you last time not to come back?!”

“Jackson?” Taemin choked. “Is that the little friend you’re talking about? The fucking whore?”

“Don't call him that,” Jimin snarled, pushing his neck farther against the wall. “Besides, you paid for that whore, remember?” When Taemin didn't answer, Jimin delivered a swift uppercut to his jaw. The sound resonated throughout the alley and Yoongi flinched. “Remember?” he hissed again. “Answer me, bastard.”

“Y-Yes!”

“I've been paid to hurt you,” Jimin continued, obviously satisfied with his answer. “And not by Jackson, if you’re wondering, so don't try and find him. I don't want to make my customer mad, and they’ll be very mad if they know I didn't kill you. But see, I only kill people when I really need to, and you’re not worth it, to be honest. If I ever see you here again, I’ll hurt you so bad you won't be able to walk for a month. Understand?”

“You couldn't do anything to me,” Taemin spat. His eyes were bulging out of his head from the lack of oxygen.

“Oh yeah?” Jimin questioned, cocking a brow. “You’re in a very bad position to say that.” As if to emphasize his words, Jimin squeezed his neck a little harder, causing Taemin to claw at his hands desperately. “Last warning. I'm not playing around.” Jimin let the man go. “Now go,” he spat. “I don't want to see you again.”

Taemin gasped for breath, shooting Jimin a dirty glare. He stood up briskly, fixing his coat with icy precision and then stomped off.  
In a split second, Yoongi turned on his heel and dashed a few meters away to duck behind a different alleyway. He rested his back on the wall, breathing speeding up as sweat dripped down his back.

 _What did I just see?_ Yoongi thought.

Jimin had just threatened to kill Taemin. Jimin threatened to kill someone. Sweet, innocent, Jimin just shoved his ex-boyfriend against the wall and crushed his neck under those small delicate hands.

Yoongi’s mind was flying a mile a minute, he didn't know what to think. Park Jimin, the pink haired timid boy he tattooed had gotten to Taemin before Yoongi could. But why? Who is Jackson? Who the hell hired Jimin to get rid of Taemin?

Jimin was the last person Yoongi had expected to be a thug. He was an _art_ student. He had _cotton candy_ colored hair. He had _zero_ pain tolerance. He was as delicate as a wilting flower.

Yoongi had to bite down on his fist when Taemin stomped down the sidewalk past him to stop himself from screaming. Thankfully Taemin didn't notice the shaking shadow pressed against the wall of the alley.

It was even worse when Jimin walked by only a few minutes later and stopped- right in front of the alley Yoongi was currently having a crisis in. A loud ring broke the silence, and Yoongi was debating over smashing his head into the dumpster next to him because Why on earth did his phone have to ring at this exact moment?! He was fumbling around his pockets, trying to silence his blaring phone but he froze when he realized it wasn't his phone, it was Jimin’s. He breathed out a sigh of relief, sagging back against the wall.

“Hey Tae,” Jimin greeted, voice cheerful and perky again- a complete 180 from a few minutes ago. There was silence again as Jimin listened to the voice on the other end. “I got it all worked out, Jackson will be fine.”

Taehyung knows about this as well? Isn't that Jimin’s friend? Yoongi wondered.

Jimin chuckled, probably from something Taehyung had said on the other end of the line. “Talk to you later, TaeTae. I'm coming back to to the city tonight. Gangnam is giving me the creeps.”

~

Yoongi sat with his back pressed against the fridge, eyes unfocused and hazy. He just got home to the apartment the next morning. Yoongi had to wait until the subways opened and then he caught the first one back to his town.

He didn't know what to think of the whole situation, what was he supposed to think? He thought Park Jimin was a simple, happy boy, but seeing him snarl in Taemin’s face and threaten to kill him declared Yoongi’s mind changed.

It was too early in the morning for Namjoon to be awake, it was a Saturday and the man was off from work. Not Yoongi, though. He had two appointments today, and he calculated one of them would take over six hours. He had to be at the parlor at 10:00, so he had four hours to worry about the situation and think things through.  
But Yoongi didn't want to think things through, he wanted a distraction- so he took a quick shower and changed his clothes. After trying to dress all pretty last night, he went the opposite direction today, throwing on a pair of joggers and a shirt that said PULP FICTION in big black letters. There was probably a stain on his yellow sweatshirt, but he slipped it on anyway.

He looked in the mirror and cringed a little. He looked rough- the black bags under his eyes stood out thanks to the lack of sleep and alcohol. He looked too thin in his oversized hoodie, and his tattooed hands only just peeked out from the baggy arms. His roots were growing back out, and he made a mental reminder to get his hair dyed soon.

But roots were the least of his worries right now, his main focus was getting some coffee in his system so he could function today. He didn't need to mess up another tattoo.  
To make matters worse, Yoongi couldn't find any more coffee in the kitchen, and he cursed Namjoon loudly (not that the man could hear him- you would need a bullhorn to wake Namjoon up). Sighing, Yoongi grabbed his phone, dust mask, keys, and slammed the door to the apartment. He trudged down the street to the coffee shop he visited the other day- the one Jungkook worked at. They had reasonably good coffee, and the prices didn't leave Yoongi with an empty wallet, either.

Jungkook wasn't working that morning and there was barely anyone in the cafe except the occasional student absorbed in their laptop. Yoongi ordered a large black coffee and a chocolate chip muffin since he hadn't eaten breakfast. The woman working the register spelled his name wrong on the cup, but Yoongi didn't notice because his thoughts were still chasing after Jimin.

No matter how hard he tried- not even when he tried to eat away his worried with the muffin- his mind wouldn't stray from the fact there was something seriously screwed up going on. Yoongi couldn't forget the way Jimin’s face lit up with anger or the way his lip curled while spitting in Taemin’s face.

And then Taehyung. Taehyung must have known what was going on, he had to. Was he the one who hired Jimin to hurt his ex-boyfriend?

Yoongi shook his head, shivering. Whatever happened last night didn't concern him, he just happened to overhear. Besides, he couldn't dwell on it the whole day, he had a job to do. He finished his muffin quickly, taking his coffee with him as he stomped out of the cafe and towards his parlor.

He unlocked the glass the door and dropped his hat on the wall rack, and then proceeded to clean, sweeping the floors and wiping down the counters. He almost didn't realize it when his phone binged with a notification.

HOBIIII _: Morning, sunshine :)))_

HOBIIII _: You need a piercer, right??_

_Yoongi: Maybe_

_Yoongi: Why_

HOBIIII _: I think I have the perfect person ;)_

_Yoongi: Who_

HOBIIII _: can I bring him over this afternoon_

_Yoongi: Who is it_

HOBIIII _: I don't think u would know him_

_Yoongi: is he a friend of urs? I don't want to just hire any thug from off the street_

HOBIIII _: a friend of a friend_

HOBIIII _: he’s really nice I think u will like him_

HOBIIII _: Just a little loud_

_HOBIII: c u around 6_

 

“Great,” groaned Yoongi, carding a hand through his hair and locking his phone. It's true, he did a lot of requests for a piercer, but that didn't mean he wanted a loud piercer. Yoongi was even more worried that Hoseok thought he was loud, it was an automatic red light. If _Hoseok_ thinks you’re a little loud, you probably have the voice of a bullhorn. But why not give the kid a chance, he may just become an important member of the parlor.

Yoongi only had his ears pierced, and his parents had yelled at him for a whole week after he got a small black stud in his earlobe six years ago. Now he had four on each ear, and his parents still disapproved of it just as much. Not that he cared about their opinion anymore. They had judged on his sexuality, job, hair, piercings, and tattoos. Eventually, he learned to just tune them out and do what he wanted.

He felt free without them, now.

 

~

The girl almost fainted from excitement as she stared at her new tattoo in the mirror. Yoongi had spent six hours tattooing a rainbow color snake up the girl's delicate arm, and you could say they were both equally happy with the outcome. Yoongi eyed the ink proudly and asked the girl if he could take a picture of it for his social media profiles- she obviously complied with a huge grin. Yoongi explained the aftercare procedures and then showed her how to clean it, then they went to the front register and she paid him generously.

She hopped out the door with a promise to come back and Yoongi couldn't help the content smile that was spreading across his face. Nothing could ruin his mood now… except for Hoseok smashing down the door with a boy at his heels.

“Yoongi!” Hoseok screeched, throwing himself at the older man as if Yoongi was going to catch him. He wasn't, and Hoseok ended up in a heap on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you I was going to bring you a piercer,” Hoseok pouted, pulling himself from the ground and dusting his ass off. “Here he is.”

Yoongi’s dead glance met the boy in question. He was tall (taller than Yoongi- but let's be honest, it's not that hard to accomplish) with honey brown hair and boxy grin. He had snake bite piercings along with an eyebrow bar and a septum ring. Some people looked trashy with so many, but this kid made it work.  
“Kim Taehyung, sir,” the boy quipped loudly, a giant grin taking up half his face.

Yoongi’s blood ran cold. Kim Taehyung. The boy on the phone with Jimin the other night. Was this the same kid? It couldn't be, right. Yoongi was caught staring and Hoseok questioned,

“Something wrong, Yoons?”

Yoongi coughed, shaking his head. “No. How do you know Hoseok, Taehyung?”

The boy looked a little nervous at being directly addressed. “Oh, I was introduced to Hyung by a friend of mine. They dance together.”

“Jimin,” Hoseok clarified.

Yoongi had to hold in a groan. Of course, he was Jimin’s friend, didn't they used to be roommates? And how did Hoseok know everyone Yoongi was trying to avoid? “Really, they dance together,” he asked instead, forcing a stiff smile. “I thought Jimin was majoring in art?”

“He is,” Hoseok said. “He stops by the studio occasionally to help out. He’s quite talented in dancing, I don't know why he didn't minor in it…”

Oh gosh, Yoongi knew Jimin was good at dancing. He saw the way the boy swung around that pole and grinded down on the metal.

“Anyway,” Yoongi continued, shaking his mind of the thought and returning his focus to Taehyung. “You’re looking for a job?”

“Yes sir,” he peeped. “I need a part-time job to pay for my schooling.”

“Ah, okay. You don't have another job?”

“U-Um, not as of now. I know how to perform piercings, though. I'm sure I could help you out around here.”

“Have you worked in a studio before?” Yoongi asked.

“No, not exactly. I used to do at-home piercings with my customers.”

“Isn't that, like, illegal?”

“A little,” Taehyung admitted.

“You’re so badass, TaeTae,” Hoseok mumbled from where he was sitting on the counter.

Yoongi chuckled. “I do need a piercer,” he admitted. “But the parlor is just getting on its feet and the pay might be a little low for the next few months.”

“I'm okay with that,” he answered quickly.

Yoongi sighed. He really did want to hire the kid, but he had no idea if he was really as good as he said he was. “Tell you what, kid. Come in next week on Monday and shadow for a week. I won't pay you, I just need to see if I can trust you.”

“Really?!” he squealed excitedly. “You don't need a resume or anything?”

Yoongi waved him off. “Nah, don't worry about it. You have all the piercing supplies, right?” Taehyung nodded. “Good. Bring them over on Monday at 8:00 to set up. I have a few people looking for piercings, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi fished out his phone from his pocket. “Give me your number, I’ll text you the information.”

Taehyung quickly punched in his number and handed the phone back to Yoongi. “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Yoongi-ssi,” he gushed, bowing slightly.

“No problem,” Yoongi muttered.

“Sorry for leaving so soon, but I need to get going,” he said, voice a little guilty. “I have an obligation tonight.”

“Okay, see you on Monday, kid,” Yoongi waved him off.

“See you!” he shouted, slamming the door the parlor and dashing down the sidewalk, leaving a slightly baffled Yoongi and Hoseok in his wake.

“...Did you like him?” Hoseok asked after a moment of silence.

Yoongi frowned. “I don't really know. He seemed reliable, though.”

Hoseok nodded, swinging his legs back and forth from where they hung off the counter. “He’s a nice boy, Tae. I think he’ll fit in just fine here.”

“I hope he lives up to my expectations,” Yoongi sighs.

Hoseok chuckled, jumping down from the counter and walking up to Yoongi. “You’re so serious. Relax a little, will you.” He massaged at Yoongi’s neck softly.

“I'm relaxed,” Yoongi protested, but he leaned into the touch nonetheless. “I just have a lot on my mind.” He contemplated telling Hobi about what he saw at the club, but he decided against it. Hoseok was his best friend, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut, and Yoongi didn't need Jimin to know he saw him.

Hoseok made a sound of understanding and peeled his hands off Yoongi’s neck. “I better get going, hyung,” he said, grabbing his coat from the rack. “I hope you figure out whatever’s on your mind.”

Yoongi was gratefully surprised the younger man didn't ask him what was wrong. Hoseok could read him like an open book, though, and knew when Yoongi didn't want to talk about things. “Thanks, Hoseok. I’ll see you later.”

Hoseok’s smile radiated like sunlight off his face. “Yup, see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it to the end of the chapter <3 Kudos and comments really mean soo much to me and keep me inspired, so please feel free to yell at me down there. I would really love to hear your ideas even though I have a pretty solid gameplan for this fic :))  
> I should be updating soon  
> NOTE: The club's name "하계" is read as "Hagye" which translates to "Underworld"  
> I thought it would be a really cool edgy name for Taeyang's club


	4. Stirry Things & Christmas Depression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me like 1,000 years to split the paragraphs- I hope you enjoy ;l 
> 
> Also, 10,900 won is about 10 US dollars (You'll need to know this)
> 
> NOTE: This is VERY un-betta, if you see any mistakes, please let me know in the comments

“How’s Taehyung doing?” 

Yoongi didn't look up from the TV where he was playing Overwatch. “Good,” he mumbled, watching Genji analyte everyone as he smashed buttons on the controller. It was Thursday night; self-declared ‘Overwatch night’. Usually, Namjoon wouldn't bother him on these nights, but he had brought food home from work and plopped it down right on the coffee table where Yoongi was originally sitting. (Yes, Yoongi likes to sit on the coffee table when he games, don't judge.) Yoongi had to pause the game and sit on the floor.

“Just good?”

“He’s really good,” Yoongi said. “Satisfied?”

“I'm glad. You needed a co-worker to keep you off your lazy ass.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. 

“Don't you want food? Turn off the damn game.”

Yoongi sighed but complied, pausing the game once more and turning towards Namjoon who was sitting across from him at the coffee table. “I hope you brought something   
good.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, pushing a cup of noodles into the older’s hands. “So do you think you’ll hire him for good?”

Yoongi thought for a moment before saying, “I think so. Business has really sped up since he came, even though it's only been a few days. That kid has a shit load of friends, and apparently, they all wanted piercings this week.”

“That's great, hyung. I'm really happy for you,” Namjoon smiled. They talked about the parlor for a while more but then Namjoon asked, “Is it okay if Jin comes over tonight?”

Yoongi groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes. “It's a Thursday, Namjoon. Can't you wait until the weekend? I wanted to sleep tonight.”

“You can sleep,” he said with a blush dusting his cheeks. 

“Yeah right,” Yoongi sighed, standing up and shuffling to his room. He got a backpack and began stuffing clothes inside. 

Namjoon appeared in the doorway with a confused look. “What are you doing?”

“I'm packing.”

“Your moving out?” Namjoon’s eyebrows shot up in his hair and his eyes turned to watermelons.

“No, dumbass,” Yoongi snapped. “I'm going to Jin and Hobi’s for the night. If he can come over here and sleep, I'm going over there.”  
Namjoon didn't know what to say so he stood in the doorway dumbly. Yoongi zipped up his bag and swung it over his shoulder as he breezed past the confused boy. He grabbed his phone and keys while Namjoon appeared back in the living room. 

“You’re not mad, right?” Namjoon asked.

Yoongi turned to him with a small affectionate smile. “No, Nams, I'm not mad.” Yoongi gave the boy a small hug before he was out the door and down the complex stairs. Hoseok’s apartment wasn't too far away, but Yoongi took the subway just a little way down the city. 

He and Jin lived in an expensive penthouse down in the center of Seoul. Jin’s father was the CEO of one of the largest companies in Korea, and after he died, Jin had no choice but to take over. Along with the company, he gained a monsterous inheritance. Yoongi knew Jin didn't like working for his dead father’s business as much as he pretended to, but he grinned it and took the responsibility like a champ. 

 

Yoongi remembered one midnight when just the two of them sat in the kitchen after Namjoon had fallen asleep on the couch, passing a joint between them and watching as the smoke curled up into the ceiling. Jin had said, “It makes me think of him.”

“What?” Yoongi asked.

“My job,” he clarified as he took a long drag. “People call me Mr Kim. I'm too young to be a Mr Kim. Mr Kim was my father.” He was only 24 years old. “I can't stop thinking of him, Yoongi. Everywhere I turn, it's like he embedded himself in every surface. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, anyway. I pretend to know how to control the company, but I'm too afraid I’ll ruin all his hard work.”

 

Yoongi was shaken out of his memories when he found himself at Hoseok’s door. He knocked quickly, the freezing cold air getting the better of him. Hoseok answered the door. 

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?” The boy had a face mask on and was holding cucumber slices in his hands. 

“Is Jin here?”

 

“No, he just left. He said he was going to your house.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, pushing his way inside. “I'm here to sleep over.”

“Really?” he squealed. “A SLEEPOVER!”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to watch White Chicks? Or Gilmore Girls? Oh, what about Cars 3?” Hoseok rambled as Yoongi dropped his bag on the floor and made a beeline for Hoseok’s room.

“I have work tomorrow.”

“Oh, so no movie?” Hoseok whined. 

“No. I'm tired. Let's go to bed.”

Yoongi knew he could have taken Jin’s room, or the couch, or the floor, or literally anywhere else but Hoseok’s bed, but he still stripped down to his boxers and crawled in between the cool sheets. He and Hoseok had done this enough that the younger boy knew Yoongi was comfortable sleeping with him in the same bed. Hoseok also knew Yoongi just craved human touch sometimes, and from the way Yoongi latched onto the younger the second he crawled in bed after Yoongi, it was apparently one of those days.   
They both knew their feelings for each other were platonic, they didn't need to worry about accidentally ruining their friendship. They had already moved past friends with benefits and acknowledged that it wasn't the best idea, so they snuggled closer to each other under the blankets and soaked up the warmth. 

 

When Yoongi woke up, the warmed was gone. He patted around the mattress lazily for Hoseok, but he was met with an empty bed. He yawned and pulled himself from the bed, trying his best to pat down his hair. He shuffled into the huge modern kitchen and found a note on the island. 

Yoongi- I'm at dance practice. Left you some breakfast in the fridge.   
Love you,  
Hobi~

Yoongi glanced at the clock. 9:00; He had to be at work in an hour. He yawned again and pulled the leftover rice from the fridge and warmed it up in the microwave. He ate quickly and then hopped in the shower. They had a giant bathroom and one of those huge glass showers with the pebble floor and waterfall. (Also a heated floor, but Yoongi was too nervous to use it because he thought the floor might catch on fire.) 

After he got dressed, he texted Hoseok a good morning, grabbed his phone, and walked out the door. He didn't need a key since it was a password protected door, but Yoongi shook the handle a few times just to make sure it locked behind him. He took the elevator down to the ground level and walked out the glass double doors and into the freezing air. 

He took the subway to the parlor, and when he wasn't surprised to see Taehyung already sitting on the couch with two coffees. “Morning, hyung!” he said with a boxy smile. He had started calling Yoongi hyung now, and Yoongi didn't exactly stop him either. 

“Morning.” He grabbed the extra coffee from Taehyung and took a long swig. 

“Um… hyung?”

“Hmm?”

“That coffee wasn't for you.”

Yoongi almost choked on the hot drink as he jerked the cup away from his mouth, coughing. “What?”

“It was for Jiminie…”

“Jiminie? Jimin? Is Jimin here?” he asked nervously, looking around the shop.

“No, he’s coming when the parlor opens, hyung.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to say hi to me on my last day of work?”

“Last day?” Yoongi questioned.

“Well, last day if you fire me.”

“I'm not going to fire you,” Yoongi said. “You've proved yourself good enough for the job.”

“Really?” he squawked. “REALLY? You’ll hire me?!”

 

“Isn't that what I just said?” Yoongi said in his signature deadpan voice. 

Taehyung jumped up and took Yoongi in a huge bear hug. “Thank you so much,” he squealed, trying his best to jump as his arms were still wrapped around a stiff and uncomfortable Yoongi. 

“No problem. Let go.”

Taehyung giggled as he withdrew his arms. “Sorry, hyung. Thank you.”

Yoongi nodded with a small smile. “Sure. And uhh... Sorry about the coffee.”

He giggled again. “It's okay, hyung, I’ll just go get another one. You can keep that one. It's black, just like you like it.”

 

“No, I’ll get another coffee, it's my fault. Jimin likes it black?”

Taehyung nodded. “Yup. Also, if it's not too much work, can you ask Jungkookie for an extra stirry thing? Jimin likes those. Thanks, hyung” Before Yoongi could answer, Taehyung’s phone rang and he answered it with an “Annyeong Eomma~”

Yoongi chuckled and started walking down to the cafe. 

He was nervous about seeing Jimin again. Yoongi was hoping his face didn't betray him when he looked the younger boy in the eyes. He had to pretend he didn't see Jimin threaten his ex-boyfriend and he had to pretend he didn't see Jimin working as a stripper. That was a lot to ask of a person, Yoongi thought. It was bad enough that Jimin already hated him, but if he knew Yoongi found out about all this… who knows what he would do. Yoongi concluded that Jimin was dangerous, what else could he think? Jimin might be dangerous, but Yoongi couldn't let the younger man intimidate him. Yoongi wasn't a pushover either- he learned how to protect himself after his experience with Taemin. 

Yoongi pushed the door to the cafe open tentatively. 

“Yoongi hyung?” Jungkook asked with a bunny smile. 

“Hey, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi greeted, looking around the cafe. It was partly empty as usual, only a few people were scattered around the tables. 

“Taehyung was just here,” Jungkook stated dumbly.

“Yeah, but I drank the coffee that was meant for Jimin and now I'm here to pick up another one.”  
Jungkook giggled. “Standard, hyung. You think everything is yours.”

“Shut your mouth, brat. Watch who you’re talking to.” Yoongi’s gummy smile betrayed the venom of his words. “Anyway, can I get a regular black coffee? And another stirry thing. I don't really know what those are, but Taehyung asked for one.”

Jungkook’s smile grew as he wrote Jimin’s name on a cup. “Alright, hyung.” Apparently, the stirry thing was edible, because Jungkook handed him a small paper bag along with his coffee. “That’ll be 10,900 won.”

Yoongi took a double take. “10,900 won? Isn't that a little expensive?”

Jungkook shrugged. “You said you wanted an extra stirry thing.”

Yoongi glanced down at the paper bag. He hadn't bothered to look inside, but now that he did, he realized it was a cake pop. “Oh my gosh,” he groaned. “This is a stirry thing?”

“No, it's a cake pop, but Taehyung calls it a stirry thing. He uses them to stir his coffee.”

“He’s so damn extra,” Yoongi sighed, fishing out the money from his wallet. “Here, take the money before I regret it.” 

Jungkook took it with an apologetic smile. “Thank’s, hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah, see you later, Jungkook.”

“Have a good day~” Is all Yoongi heard before he was stomping back down the street. 

He got to the parlor in record time and slammed the door when he barreled inside and escaped from the freezing air that had tinted his cheeks a rosy pink. His eyes snapped to the couch where Jimin and Taehyung were giggling over something on Taehyung's phone. He slammed the coffee on the table which caused both of them to jump in surprise and threw the paper bag at Taehyung's head. 

“There’s your fucking stirry thing.” He wasn't even taken aback by Jimin’s presence on his couch, just aware of the cold air and how annoyed he was with this entire situation. “I hope you’re not going to be giggling on the couch all day, I have a customer in an hour.”

“Thank you hyung~” Taehyung giggled, hugging the paper bag to his chest. “These are Jiminie’s favorite!”

“If I knew ‘Jiminies favorite’ was an expensive cake pop, I wouldn't have gotten it.” Yoongi practically hissed when he said ‘Jiminies favorite’. “I hope you fucking love that thing, Jimin.”

Jimin looked surprised as he was directly addressed and their eyes met. Yoongi thought the younger boy looked completely different then he did at the club. Here, he was softly wrapped in a pastel sweater, but at the club, he was clad scandalously in fishnets. Yoongi didn't let the sight of Jimin throw him off, and he turned on his heel and stomped behind the desk before his eyes could betray him. 

“Why are you in such a bad mood, hyung? I'm sorry about the stirry thing, I’ll pay you back.”

Yoongi sighed, trying to calm down. “Sorry, Taehyung. I didn't get much sleep last night,” he lied. Truthfully, he had a great sleep last night, wrapped in Hoseok’s warmth, but he needed a quick excuse. He didn't need Taehyung to know he was in a bad mood because Jimin was here. “You don't need to pay me back.”

“I found sleeping pills behind the counter the other day, I think you left them here. I hope that wasn't the reason you had a bad night,” Taehyung said innocently. 

Yoongi sent a quick glare over to him, silencing the boy. It was true, Yoongi had left them here on purpose. Before last night, he had not been sleeping very well, and he tended to rely on the pills to lull him to dreamland. Sometimes he overdosed just to calm to the storm that was depression, and he didn't want to risk it, so he left them here.   
He tried to calm his breathing so he wouldn't blow up at Taehyung. He missed the way Jimin looked at him with apprehension clear on his face. “Thanks, Taehyung. I’ll make sure to grab them on the way out tonight,” he sighed, carding an inked hand through his hair. 

“O-Okay, hyung.”

Yoongi turned to the bulletin board full of appointments. “Don't you have a piercing soon, Taehyung?” he asked, trying to change the subject. 

“In an hour, yeah.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Yoongi. “It's a dick piercing.”

Yoongi looked at him with disgust clear on his face. “You do those?”

“Yeah, you want one, hyung?”

Yoongi gagged. “No thank you. Keep your fetishes away from me.”

“It's not my fetish,” he pointed out. 

“Don't lie, Tae,” Jimin said, cutting him off.It was the first time Jimin had spoken since Yoongi had come back. 

“Hey!” Taehyung protested. 

Yoongi ignored them as they continued bickering. He powered up his computer and printed out a few stencils so he could draw them on the transfer paper. This customer wanted the word LOVE in big loopy letters, and Yoongi hated it so much. Love is a waste of time. But he couldn't say that to the customer, he had made that mistake before back in his rookie days when he was working as an apprentice. He cringed at the memory and occupied himself with the design. 

Jimin’s voice was filling the parlor with a sweet sound, a complete 180 from the way he snarled at Taemin. It was too weird, and Yoongi tried not to pay attention to the sickly sweet lull. To think his attraction was more than ‘sexual attraction’ like he told Jin, but yet he didn't know shit about Jimin. How could he be attracted to him in that way when he saw a side last week he never wanted to see? He didn't know anything about Jimin, and it angered Yoongi. 

“Yoongi!” Taehyung called after a while minutes. 

“What?” Yoongi shouted from his desk.

“Hoseok texted you!”

Yoongi looked over at Taehyung who was still on the couch next to Jimin, holding Yoongi’s phone in his large hands. 

 

“Why the hell do you have my phone?”

“You left it on the table. Hoseok invited you to a club tonight-”

“Stop reading my texts,” Yoongi demanded, marching over and snatching his phone from Taehyung’s hands. 

“Hagye,” Taehyung finished.

Yoongi almost dropped his phone, and he missed the way Jimin’s eyes widened dramatically.  
Hagye. Why the hell would Hoseok invite him to Hagye? He knew Yoongi hated that place, he knew that was where he met Taemin.

HOBIII: Hey Yoons~ Come to Hagye tonight :) the club is closed but Taeyang invited the 2 of us over for drinks.

Yoongi: Why is the club closed? It's a Friday

Yoongi sent his text before turning back to Taehyung. “Please don't read my texts ever again.”

“S-Sory,” Taehyung apologized.

HOBIII: It's Christmas Eve, remember?

Yoongi mentally slapped himself. That’s right, it was Christmas Eve. Namjoon, Jin, and Hoseok were all leaving Seoul tomorrow. Namjin to the parents, and Hobi to America. 

Yoongi: Right. I forgot. I’ll come tonight

HOBIII: Yay =) See u 2night

Yoongi locked his phone and looked back at Taehyung, sighing at the boy’s innocence. He couldn't stay mad at the younger.

“You go to Hagye often?” Jimin asked. His voice held 100 different meanings to Yoongi. 

Yoongi looked at him and blinked slowly. Maybe now was the time to let him know. “Sometimes,” he lied, smirking a little. “What about you, go there often?”

“No, not really,” Jimin said. Yoongi could tell his voice was edging on nervous. “I've been there a few times.”

“A few times, huh? I was there last Friday, when did you go?” Yoongi knew this was a dangerous idea, but he couldn't resist. 

Jimin visibly paled, but he quickly regained confidence. “I haven't been there for a few months.”

“Ah, okay. Well, I'm going to get back to work.” Yoongi walked back to his desk with a smirk on his face.

“Ah-Yoongi,” Jimin stuttered. “Hagye is a gay club.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi questioned. “Your point?”

“N-Nevermind,” Jimin sputtered. “Sorry.”  
~

The apartment was oddly quiet as Yoongi prepared to meet Hoseok at Hagye. Jin and Namjoon had just left for their trip, and Hoseok was just about to begin his journey to America for Christmas, but first, they wanted to meet with Taeyang at the club. Hoseok didn't have to be at the airport until 2 am, anyway, so they had plenty of time to kill.   
Yoongi dressed in a simple pair of black sweatpants, a blue Thrasher shirt, and Timberlands. Yoongi bought the brown pair of boots after seeing Jungkook wearing them to the parlor. 

Yoongi rode the subway to Gangnam, and he took a deep breath as he entered the suffocating city. He took his time walking to Hagye, admiring the city and its people. Soon enough, though, he was rapping on Hagye’s door. Tonight there wasn't a bouncer waiting to check his ID, so he pushed his way inside. The hallway was dark as usual, and Yoongi tripped and stumbled to the main room where Taeyang and Hoseok were sitting at a small table by the stage. Even though the club was closed tonight, the neon lights still reflected off the glass stage and sent a rainbow of colors onto every surface. 

“Yoongi!” Taeyang called with a grin, waving him over. “Happy Christmas eve.”

Yoongi sat down next to Hoseok who gave him a little hug and kept an arm around him comfortably. “Same to you. Thanks for having us over tonight.” 

“No problem,” Taeyang said, twirling his wine glass between his fingers. “I wanted to give Hoseok a good going away party.”

“It’ll only be for a week,” Hoseok muttered.  
“A week of no Hobi is like a week without sunshine,” Taeyang pointed out with a quirk of his brow.

Hoseok just blushed and buried his head in Yoongi’s shoulder. “Aren't you engaged?” He asked.

“He was trying to hit on me the other day, too,” Yoongi said dryly. 

“I am not trying to hit on you!” Taeyang shouted defensively.

“Right, and I'm the King of Bolivia,” Yoongi mumbled. 

The older man just sighed and leaned back in his chairs. Yoongi wanted to ask him about Jimin, if he knew anything about the boy. If he knew how long he had been working at the club, but Hoseok was right in front of them. He couldn't ask him now. 

“Besides, from the way you two treat each other, I probably don't have any room to hit on you,” Taeyang said coyly, motioning between Hoseok and Yoongi who were leaning against each other. 

Hoseok only chuckled, leaning farther into Yoongi and snuggling up against his chest. “You don't know anything about us, Taeyang,” he said.

“Please, enlighten me. I haven't seen you two so touchy in years.” Taeyang was probably right, Yoongi realized. They were touching quite a lot, but it was just because Yoongi didn't want him to leave yet; he would miss the boy- no… he was already missing Hoseok. It was only for a week, though, and Yoongi was just being dramatic. 

“We’re not together,” Hoseok said simply. “We used to be, though. Back in high school.”

“Fuckbuddies,” Yoongi clarified, running his long tattoed fingers through Hoseok’s red hair. 

Taeyang snorted. “I always knew you two had something going on. I should have guessed you don't move on.”   
“We’ve moved on,” Yoongi said clearly. “It's a platonic friendship. I know you’ve never heard of that before, Taeyang. The only relationships you have are with your sluts.”

He choked on his wine and sent a daggered glare to Yoongi, but he stopped when he realized the mint-haired man had a small smile on his lips. “Bitch,” Taeyang settled on saying. 

“I'm just kidding,” Yoongi apologized. “Sorry, sorry.”

Taeyang rolled his eyes. “Do you want a drink, Yoongi? Hoseok?”

“I shouldn't get on the plane drunk,” Hoseok said with a pout. 

“What you have will be fine,” Yoongi said, motioning to Taeyang’s glass. “I shouldn't get drunk, either.”

While Taeyang walked to the bar to get Yoongi a glass of wine, Hoseok looked up to Yoongi from where he was snuggled in the hollow of his chest. “Tomorrow is Christmas,” he stated as if Yoongi didn't already know. 

“I know, Hobi.”

“You don't even have a tree up in your apartment. There is no Christmas spirit in your body, Scrooge.”

Yoongi let out a breathless laugh. It was true, he wasn't really feeling Christmas this year, and it mainly had to do with his new packed schedule. He used to have time to care about these things, but now he had a job it seemed more of a petty pleasure than a holiday.

“And you’re gonna be all alone for Christmas,” Hoseok whined. 

“I’ll be okay,” Yoongi said softly. “It's nothing I'm not used to.” 

That was definitely the wrong thing to say, and Hoseok let out a sound of distress and wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist. “You shouldn't be used to these things, Yoongi hyung. Being alone.”

Taeyang came back with a glass half full of red wine and handed it to Yoongi with a smirk. “Only the best for you, Yoongi.”  
He took a sip, giving Taeyang a thumbs up at the selection of wine. 

“So, Yoongi,” Taeyang started, taking his seat again. “Any plans for Christmas?”

Yoongi inwardly groaned. He just went over this with Hoseok. “No, not much. I’ll probably be in the parlor drawing or something.”

Taeyang groaned and barked out a laugh. “Yoongi! Christmas! Are you going to work on Christmas day? What a bland bean.”

Bland bean?

“Well, what do you suggest I do?” Yoongi snapped, throwing his head back and downing the whole drink in one gulp.

Taeyang shrugged. “How should I know? Maybe you should use all that new tattooing money and get yourself some fun.”

 

“Please don't try to promote your strippers,” was Yoongi’s deadpan reply. “I'm not paying for a stripper on Christmas, who do you think I am, a roach?”

“Something like that,” the older man said. 

Yoongi sighed in defeat. “I really don't understand how you’re engaged.”

An hour of bickering later, Yoongi climbed into the DJ booth and hooked up his phone to the aux cord, and they blasted music throughout the empty club. Yoongi had a questionable selection of music- ranging from k-pop to sexy American songs that had a lot of low whispering and uncomfortable moaning- but they all loved it anyway, so they hit the dance floor and ended up grinding against each other to the song “Beware” by Big Sean. It was sort of a hard song to grind to, but they made it work.   
After a while, Taeyang’s old man body had to take a break and Yoongi and Hoseok were left in the middle of the empty floor to attempt a version of the Tango with a whole lot of incorporated hip rolls. Taeyang wolf whistled and cheered along as Yoongi took Hobi’s hips and grinded up behind him, swinging his waist along with the song. Yoongi found himself giggling and cheering along with Taeyang when Hoseok tried to breakdance and almost fell on his ass multiple times.

Yoongi couldn't remember when he’d had such a good time, and he let all his cares go as he danced to the bass-enhanced music, and momentarily forgot about the daunting subject of being utterly alone for Christmas.

It ended all too soon though because Hoseok reminded him they needed to be at the airport three hours early. They said their goodbyes to Taeyang- who promised to call Hoseok while he was in the states-and then called a cab to take them to the airport. They two filed into the cab and set off into the night towards Seoul International Airport. Hoseok fell asleep on the way there, and Yoongi felt bad when he had to shake the boy awake to leave the cab. 

Hoseok was in sleepy silence for a while as he checked in his bags and got his boarding ticket, but slowly he came down from the sleepy cloud and ran excitedly to the huge expanse of windows. “Hyung, look! It's so big!” Hoseok marveled, looking around the airport with a huge grin. “I've never been on a plane before. Oh shit- what if it crashes?”

“It's not going to crash,” Yoongi sighed. How did he have so much energy so late at night? 

“Okay.”

The waited in the uncomfortable black chairs and talked about America for three whole hours while they waited for his flight. Yoongi had never been there, neither had Hoseok, so they both googled pictures of New York and gaped at the cool buildings and funky looking people lining the streets. Hoseok tried to practice his English, but it wasn't very good, and Yoongi just ended up laughing at him. 

Hoseok shot up in his chair when a voice came over the intercom announcing the flight to New York was boarding. He and Yoongi went to the correct gate and Hoseok stalled an extremely long time before getting in line. He enveloped Yoongi in a bone-crushing hug and buried his head in the crook of his neck. “I’ll miss you,” Hoseok said, breathing in Yoongi’s scent like he was afraid of forgetting it. “I hope you have a good Christmas.”

“You too, Hobi. I hope you have fun. Don't forget to send me lots of pictures, kay?”

Hoseok nodded and wiped some tears from his eyes, laughing a little at his dramatic emotions. “I love you, Yoongi. See you in a week.”

Yoongi dropped a kiss on the top of Hoseok’s head. “Love you too. Now go, you’ll be late! See you in a week!”

Hoseok gave him a thumbs up as he handed the boarding director his ticket and entered the hallway that took him to the plane. It took Yoongi a solid five minutes before he peeled his eyes from the hallway and walked back towards the exit where he ordered another cab. 

~  
Gay-Baes group chat: 10:00 am

Jinnie: Merry Christmas, Yoons!!!

Joonie: Yeah, I hope you haven't burned down the apartment yet :(

Yoongi: not yet ;)

Yoongi: How're the parents?

Jinnie: Good -///- Joonie’s parents are so sweet

Yoongi: Glad you 2 lovebirds r having fun

Yoongi: ttyl 

~  
Yoongi locked his phone and sighed. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the fridge like he usually did when he had a lot on his mind. “Merry Christmas,” he mumbled to himself. The words tasted bad on his tongue. 

He groaned and pulled himself off the floor, and then took a shower and dressed in casual street clothes. He grabbed his sketchbook, keys, wallet, phone, and sped out of the empty apartment. He couldn't stand to be there a second longer, it just felt so depressing. None of the shops or restaurants were open today, so he had to skip out on his daily coffee run and head straight to the parlor. 

When Yoongi put his key into the parlor door, he was surprised to find it already unlocked. Frowning, Yoongi pushed inside. “Hello? Anybody here?” The lights were on, but Yoongi couldn't see anything out of the normal.

“Hello?” he called again, louder this time. 

Then he heard a distinct, “Shit, shit, shit!” It was coming from the extra room Taehyung used for piercings. The door was closed.

Yoongi tentatively put his hand on the cold knob and opened the door cautiously. “Hello?”

“Ah shit.” It was Taehyung.

Yoongi had given him an extra key when he hired the boy, but he didn't expect to see him here on Christmas… especially leaning over a bleeding Jimin. 

“What the fuck?” Yoongi gasped. “Is that Jimin?”

“Err… yeah. Do you have a first aid kit, hyung?”

It took Yoongi a long time to process the question. Jimin was sitting on the patient's chair, rose bleeding, lip bleeding, a cut on his cheek. His usual pastel attire was replaced with a black turtleneck and a long black trench coat. His shoulders were caved in, and he was visibly shaking. “Y-Yeah, I have a first aid kit. Can you bring him out to the couch?”

Taehyung nodded and hauled Jimin to the lobby as Yoongi jumped behind the counter and searched around for the first aid box. He held it up triumphantly and ran back to the couch where Jimin had been dropped. Yoongi helped Taehyung strip Jimin’s shirt off and that's when he noticed the gash across the younger's ribs.

“Fuck, that’s deep,” Yoongi hissed. He grabbed some fabric and started to wind it tightly around Jimin’s body. “I’ll clean it off later, but right now I need to stop the bleeding.” Yoongi’s body worked on autopilot, grabbing different things from the kit and applying different creams to Jimin’s face. 

Jimin hissed when he felt the peroxide sting his open cuts, but Yoongi ignored the slight sounds of distress and continued dressing all his wounds. 

“What the fuck did you do, Jimin?” Yoongi asked, taking a wet rag and dabbing his bloody cheek. 

Jimin groaned, twisting his body in discomfort. “Since when were you so interested?” he grunted out. 

“Jimin,” Taehyung warned. “Yoongi’s helping you.”

“I know, Tae, I didn't go blind.”

“Turn down the damn sass,” Yoongi hissed. He didn't have to help Jimin. 

“Sorry,” Jimin apologized with a sigh and another groan. “It just hurts.”

“...I know. Hold on, I'm almost done.” Yoongi finished wrapping Jimin’s bleeding knuckles in gauze and took a step back to admire his work. Jimin still looked extremely rough, but the blood from his rib wound hadn't seeped through the bandage yet, and Yoongi had cleaned up his face enough that you could recognize it was Jimin. 

“How’d you know what to do, hyung?” Taehyung ask. 

Yoongi shrugged. “I've gotten into quite a few fights where I didn't have the luxury of a hospital. Which brings me back to the question: what happened, Jimin?”

Jimin looked away as he slipped his shirt back over his body. “Nothing you need to know about.” 

Yoongi frowned and glanced towards the clock. It was too early in the morning to deal with something like this, he thought. Especially on Christmas. 

“Sorry for barging in, hyung,” Taehyung apologized. “The parlor was the closest place, my apartment is all the way across town, and I just needed to get Jimin safe. I thought you would have enough bandages, because, you know, you’re a tattoo artist. It was just too cold outside to drag him all the way-”

Yoongi cut off Taehyung’s rambling with a sharp, “It's okay. I get it.”

“But I was just hired and it was completely out of line for me to do something like this,” Taehyung continued frantically. “I understand if you don't trust me anymore-”

“Taehyung!” Yoongi snapped. “Shut the hell up, I'm not going to fire you.”

“Really? Thank you so much Yoongi hyung, this really means a lot to me! Honestly, if there’s any way I can repay you, let me know.”

“Just be quiet, then we’ll be even,” Yoongi said, sending a glare to the younger boy. That shut him up, and Yoongi turned his attention back to Jimin.

He looked so delicate like this, vulnerable and bloody. His fading pink hair was matted to his head with sweat, and his pupils were blown up from the anxiety. He was hunched over, folding into himself as if he was trying to protect his secrets. His body was covered in a layer of sweat, and he looked around nervously, gaze finding calmness when his   
eyes met Yoongi. 

“Calm down, Jimin,” Yoongi said. “You’re safe in here.” As if to reassure the boy, he walked to the parlor entrance and locked the door. “Now, why are you so beat up on Christmas day?” 

Jimin looked down at his hands. “I got into a little fight.”

Yoongi snorted as he went to the mini-fridge behind the counter. He grabbed Jimin and Taehyung a bottle of water, tossing them to the boys. 

“Obviously,” Yoongi chuckled, eyeing the boy. “Where were you?”

Jimin hesitated. “On my way back from Gangnam. I almost made it home,” he growled, angry at himself. “I'm so fucking stupid-”

Taehyung cut off his words with a gasp. “No, no, Jiminie,” he soothed, gathering up the hurt boy in his arms. “It wasn't you, okay?” 

Jimin sniffed and wiped at his eyes quickly, hoping Yoongi didn't see him crying. “I just wish I wasn't so unprepared, Tae. I should have known. I didn't even have a gun on me-”  
“Jimin,” Taehyung hissed lowly. 

But it was too late, Yoongi had already heard. Jimin’s head snapped up as if remembering Yoongi was standing right in front of him. A harsh silence settled between the three boys, Taehyung glancing frantically between his best friend and his employer. 

“I-I'm just delusional,” Jimin said after a long while. “I forgot to t-take my meds.”

“That's right,” Taehyung confirmed, nodding at his obvious lie. 

Yoongi sighed, glare turning even sharper. “Do you think I'm dumb or something? Please stop it with the lies, I can read you like a fucking book.”

Both the boys looked at him with fear in their eyes. Of course, Yoongi could have picked up the phone and made a call to the local police station, but he didn't know the whole story, and he wanted to hear it all before making a decision. 

Taehyung looked like he was about to shit himself, hands shaking so bad he wondered if the boy was trying to play the piano.  
Yoongi sighed and rubbed his temples. It was really too early for this. “Taehyung, calm the fuck down, I won't tell anyone. And Jimin, don't try to kill me, either.”

Jimin looked him full in the eyes, the fear receding. “I'm not going to kill you, Yoongi-ssi. Please don't think that. I won't hurt you.”

“Well, good,” Yoongi smirked. “I'm glad.”

“We should really go,” Taehyung interjected, trying to pull Jimin off the couch, who groaned at the blinding pain in his rips. 

“No, Tae, hold on,” he grunted out, clutching his side. 

“Don't you fucking leave,” Yoongi said sharply. “I said I wouldn't turn you in, why are you trying to run away from me?”

“Tae,” Jimin said, shaking the boy off his arm. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course, Jiminie.”

“Go buy us all some food. I need to speak with Yoongi-ssi. I'm sure there’s at least one fast food restaurant open today.”

Taehyung understood.

“Okay, Jiminie. I’ll be back in a little while.” 

Before Taehyung stood up, Jimin slipped a knife into the boy’s pocket. “Just in case, Tae. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Taehyung nodded. “Thanks. See you.”

It was a solid minute before Jimin turned to Yoongi with an odd look in his eyes. “This isn't how I wanted you to find out,” he started breathlessly. “Actually, I didn't want you to find out at all. I don't exactly trust you, and I don't even know you.”

Yoongi felt the hatred of his own words being spat back at him by. It pained him to look at Jimin. 

“And I'm not going to tell you what's going on, either,” Jimin continued, sinking into the couch painfully. 

“I won't tell anyone, you know that,” Yoongi said calmly. 

“Because you’re scared,” Jimin stated, voice certain. “You’re scared of what I might do to you if you tell anyone.”

“I'm not-”

“You are,” Jimin insisted. “Don't bullshit me.”

“I saw you at the club last Friday,” Yoongi said. “I saw Taemin, too.” Maybe telling Jimin this wasn't the best idea but had no idea what else to do.   
Jimin visibly paled. “How do you know who Taemin is? Don't tell me you work for him. Fuck, I'm so dumb, how could I let you lead me into a trap-”

“Jimin, shut up,” Yoongi commanded. “I know Taemin under other circumstances.” Yoongi wasn't about to tell Jimin Taemin raped him. “I'm not working for anyone. But I did see you threaten him. You said someone paid you to do it. Wanna explain?”  
Jimin sighed, and carded a shaky hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I really shouldn't tell you, Yoongi-ssi.” He stalled a little. “I'm in too deep, fuck.”

“Jimin, I haven't given you any reasons to trust me. In Fact, I've been a bitch to you. I shouldn't have said I only liked your body, it was a dick move, I’ll admit it. But I'm being honest when I say I won't tell anyone.”

“I believe you,” Jimin said hesitantly. “Hoseok trusts you, and Taehyung does, too. I just…” he looked down at his hands and his shoulder heaved. Yoongi was surprised at the sudden change. Was he crying? Jimin pressed his palms against his eyes and sniffled.  
Yoongi became rigid as he stared at Jimin’s shaking figure. What was he supposed to do? 

“I can't,” Jimin finally breathed. “I can't. I can't, dammit.” He looked up at Yoongi, eyes a little misty. “I'm sorry, and I know you are, too.”  
~

Taehyung never came back with food, and Jimin left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter was shorter than usual, blame my schooling :(
> 
> Shit's about to hit the fan, please stay tuned lol. 
> 
> Another update soon


	5. XTC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> XTC XTC XTC XTC XTC XTC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I would upload soon :)) This is seriously THE LONGEST CHAPTER SO ENJOYYY *Shoots hearts at all my readers*
> 
> I listened to the song "Back to Black" by Beyonce while writing this chapter, so please look up the song and listen if you're looking for an audio aid. 
> 
> We learn so much about Jimin, Taehyung, and XTC in this ch.... there's barely any Yoongi time :(   
> Maybe next time

Yoongi watched Gilmore Girls and ate three fudge sicles because it reminded him of Hoseok. In the past, Christmas night was full of family and food and friends, but now it was lonely and confusing. Hoseok had sent him a seleca of him making peace signs in the airport, and that had made Yoongi smile a little as he turned his attention back to the screen where some girl named Rory was arguing with her mom. 

Yoongi even attempted to fill the apartment with Christmas cheer by playing some holiday music, but nothing seemed to work; his mood was still trash. At this point in the night, he would usually go out to a club or bar, but everything was closed tonight.

It really was a tragedy when Netflix asked if he was still there.

~

 

Jimin took the thick wad of bills and ran them through his fingers with an annoyed sigh. “Why is this in American currency? How do you expect me to use this?” He tossed the stack of green paper on the table, eyeing the man in front of him. “Well?”

“That's what the customer gave me,” he shrugged. “I thought you could just go to the airport and get it exchanged.”

“You want me to exchange the money? I thought we had an agreement; I take the jobs you don't want, and you collect the money,” Jimin said, voice low. “Take it to the airport yourself, I’ll expect the money tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and started out the door.

“Sir-”

“Good doing business with you.” Jimin slammed the door, cutting him off. He yawned tiredly, pressing the button that called the elevator. He climbed into the shaky elevator and fixed his suit after pressing the ‘ground level’ button. He shot up, and the elevator gave a tired huff as it came to a shuttering stop.

Jimin walked out of the elevator and into the long black hallway to the bar. None of the bar-goers knew a mafia was operating right under their feet, and they wanted to keep it that way, so every door leading to the underground was locked with a password. Jimin had to type in the complicated password and get a retina scan before he could even push the door open and enter the filthy air of the bar. 

He walked straight to the bar counter and called over a bartender. 

“What can I get for you, sir?” 

“A dry Martini, please,” Jimin said as he fished around in his pockets and held up a gold plated card for the bartender to inspect. “Park Jimin of XTC. I hope the drink is on the house?”

The tender visibly paled and gave a sharp bow. “Yes sir, anything is free. I will have your drink in a short moment.”

“Take your time,” Jimin said, waving him off. He glanced around the cramped bar, letting out a low sigh. The building was packed tonight, it being the day after Christmas. Everyone was off of work, and everyone wanted a good night. 

Jimin’s mind floated to the conversation he had with Yoongi just yesterday. Why couldn't he stop thinking about? He shouldn't trust Yoongi, he didn't even know the man, but the way the older man said he wasn't scared of him, or when he told Jimin he was safe at the parlor… it just made him feel good. It made him feel like he could actually believe Yoongi when he said he was sorry, or when he said Jimin could trust him. But Jimin was just being stupid, he knew that.

Of course Yoongi was scared of him, the man had seen Jimin threaten to kill Taemin and heard that Jimin carried a gun. Who wouldn't be scared? Everyone is scared of a monster, and Jimin was sure Yoongi would be even more terrified if he knew what was really going one; what Jimin was really capable of doing. Right now, Yoongi only knew 0.1% of what was going on, and Jimin wanted to keep it that way. 

Jimin could do a lot more than threaten stupid perverts, he could wreak havoc. He was XTC’s most trusted sniper... and also XTC’s most trusted distraction. He didn't need to go to college, he made enough money working for the Mafia to retire, but after he graduated, he wanted to have a chance at a normal life. But truthfully, it's extremely hard to wiggle out of the Mafia, so Jimin might not have any other option but to stay until he was arrested or assassinated. Jimin didn't look forward to either of them, but he knew the inevitable couldn't be avoided, and XTC would eventually fall from its reign. 

But right now XTC was in its golden age. Constantinople looked like a shitty town compared to the underground empire XTC had built. It was a dirty empire full of drugs, murder, and sex, but it was still golden; it glimmered with sin. Sin attracted people, that’s how XTC became so powerful. There was one main branch of XTC- the mafia- but smaller branches stemmed out from the core. The prostitute branch and the drug dealing branch were just two of many smaller sectors. 

Jimin worked for the mafia for about three years. It started in his first year of college when he realized he actually needed a full-time job to pay for both college, his mother’s bills, and rent. He lived with Taehyung, and he was oddly suspicious of how the boy managed to bring more than enough money to the table every month.

One night Tae came home caked in blood, and that’s when he spilled the whole story to Jimin…. and dragged him into the golden empire of sinful XTC. 

“Your drink, sir.” The bartender jerked him out of his dreams.

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbled, taking a sip of the clear drink. He jumped and almost spilled the glass all over himself when he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist. “What the-”

“It's just me, idiot,” the voice said.

Jimin relaxed at the familiar voice. “Hey, Jisu. What are you doing here?”

“I thought I would grab a drink after work,” she answered sweetly, detaching herself from Jimin’s waist and settling on the barstool next to him. “Calm my nerves a little.”

“Understandable,” Jimin chuckled. Jisu also worked for the mafia as a hacker, and her job was most likely the most tiring out of all of them. He and Jisu had been friends since   
Jimin had joined three years ago. She was a smaller girl with long black hair and big sad eyes. A glint of silver on her nose caught Jimin’s attention. It was a small septum ring. 

“That new?” he questioned, motioning to her nose. 

“Hmm?” She playing with the ring. “Yeah. You know where I got it done?”

“Where?”

“That guy you wanted me to do a background check on? He owns a tattoo parlor. He’s really good, I got a tattoo there not too long ago. Taehyung got a job there and did my nose.”

Jimin froze. Jisu got a tattoo at Yoongi’s parlor?

It's true, Jimin asked Jisu to do a background check on Yoongi after Jungkook had dragged him to the studio. He was worried the man might be in a gang because of all the tattoos he had, Jimin just had to make sure before going there again. His record was mostly clean, except for one of two speeding tickets, and a fine for underage drinking he received when he was eighteen. One thing about the background check did catch his eye though: Yoongi was sexually harassed in the past. It said so right on the screen, and Jimin had to rub his eyes and look again to make sure he didn't misread. But there it was, as clear as sunlight.

“Min Yoongi?” Jimin asked, hoping he was wrong. 

“Yeah, that's the guy. He’s really nice,” Jisu said. 

“Oh,” Jimin muttered. “Yeah.”

Jisu called the bartender over and ordered a beer, and then flashed him her golden card. On the house. Standard procedure. 

“Anyway, how’s work going for you, Jimin? I haven't talked to you in a while,” Jisu asked. She was always so concerned with other people. 

“Work…” he sighed a chuckled a little, running a hand through his pink hair. “It's an adventure, as always.” Jisu snorted unattractively at that. “I'm getting more jobs, but most of them are just orders to kill someone, which is always boring.” He tilted his glass back and finished his martini in one gulp.

“You really should find some less-illegal jobs,” she said seriously. “You’re too young to get thrown in prison.”

“Too late now,” Jimin snorted. “I wanted to quit after I finished up college… but they probably won't let me leave. I’ll either grow old and wrinkly working for XTC or get shot by XTC.”

“There’s always hope,” she said, lying straight through her teeth. Once you join the mafia, you don’t leave. It's just a fact. You know too much for them to let you leave, and if you do, they’ll come kill you. Jimin’s seen it happen before. 

“Yeah. Hope.” His voice was anything but hopeful. 

“Jimin, you are moving up in the mafia,” she said. “When you make it to the top, there’s nobody stopping from you from leaving.”

She had a good point, if Jimin made it to the top of the social pyramid, he could decide what he wanted to do. But that means he would have to kill the boss, or the boss would have to drop dead. (Which wasn't so far fetched, boss practically had one foot in the grave.) The worry for Jimin wasn't about getting to the top, it was about what the members of XTC would do when he got there. Sure, he just needed the title of ‘boss’ and then he could leave, but many people inside of the mafia itself were against him. Some higher up nobles had done some… unspeakable things to Jimin- and if Jimin became the boss, they would be scared that he would get his revenge and kill them before they got the chance to kill him. And they weren't wrong; if Jimin ever got to the top, he was going to make their lives hell, and burn XTC to the ground. He hated XTC. He wanted to escape. But right now, that wasn't an option. 

“It'll be awhile before I make it that far up,” he settled on saying. 

She shrugged. “It will, but It’ll be worth it when you get out.”

“You can never really get out, you know that right?” Jimin asked softly. 

She smiled sadly and took a drink of beer. “I know.”

You could get out of XTC, but it would always be a part of you. You can't escape the memories or scars. You can't stop the people tracking you down years after you’d left just because they have a bone to pick with you. Jimin fucked up his life three years ago, and he knew it, too. There really was no going back. 

~

 

Yoongi didn't open the shop up until Wednesday- three days after Christmas. He was feeling drowsy most of the time, and he had started taking the sleeping pills again. It was like living inside a shell of himself. 

On Friday he only had two customers, and Taehyung had three piercing appointments because he was on Christmas break and didn't have class. Having him around the parlor was less annoying than Yoongi thought, and he might have even been growing accustomed to seeing the boxy smile every day. That and the boy brought him a cup of coffee every morning. 

“Morning, hyung!” Taehyung called from the counter when Yoongi shuffled into the parlor lazily. 

He only grunted in response. 

“Your coffee is on your desk!”

Yoongi grunted again.

He hadn't spoken to Taehyung about the whole Christmas day ordeal. They both pretend it never happened. Taehyung was obviously nervous when he came in for work on Wednesday, apprehensive of what Yoongi would say (or do), but Yoongi just ignored the boy’s nervous glances. So things went back to normal.

That night, Jin and Namjoon were coming back to Seoul and Hoseok was coming back on Sunday, so Yoongi did have a few things to look forward to- he wasn't completely hopeless. That gave him some motivation to get him through the day, then he could go home and see his friend. 

Yoongi tattooed a pixel spaceship onto a young woman’s arm, and an orange pair of wings onto the back an old man’s neck. He was pretty satisfied with both outcomes and waved goodbye to his last customer with a friendly gummy smile. Taehyung had a good day too, he got to do his favorite septum piercings, snake bites, and one cartilage piercing. 

Taehyung left early at 3 pm because he said he had an obligation, so that left Yoongi to work on his laptop until 5. The minute 4:59 turned to 5:00, Yoongi was out of his seat and running out of the parlor. He was just so excited to get home.

He took the subway (which he felt was going slower today) to the apartment and skipped up the complex stairs with a grin. He threw the door open without warning, and he was met with the ungodly sight of Jin and Namjoon making out on the couch. 

“Hey!” Yoongi shouted, startling Jin so much he fell off the couch with a loud thud. “What are you doing on my couch?!”

“Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon gasped, climbing off the couch to run to the older boy, almost tripping on his boyfriend. Namjoon wrapped him in a brotherly bear hug. “I missed you!”

Yoongi patted his back fondly. “Me too, Namjoon. How was the trip?”

Namjoon smiled fondly at his boyfriend who had gotten up off the ground and walked up to the two roommates. “It was good,” Namjoon said, wrapping his arm around Jin’s waist. 

“My parents really liked Jin. He was so polite, I couldn't stop laughing.”

Jin chuckled and bent to place a kiss on Namjoon’s lips. Yoongi wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

“I heard someone started working for you?” Jin raised a brow. 

“Yeah, a boy named Kim Taehyung. He’s a piercer.”

“Wow, expanding the business,” Jin gushed, clapping him on the back. “I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks, hyung. He’s a good kid.”

“So, any new discoveries with Jimin?” Namjoon asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Yoongi was dreading this question. “Umm, no. I don't think it's going to work out, actually.”

“Sure it is,” Jin encouraged. “You just have to be persistent!”

“He made it clear what he wants,” Yoongi said emotionlessly. “And it's not a relationship.” 

“I'm sorry, Yoons,” Jin sympathized, bringing Yoongi into a soft hug. “I'm sure there’s someone else out there like him.”

To Yoongi, those words just felt wrong. There wasn't anyone like Jimin (not that Yoongi knew anything about him), he had his own set of secrets Yoongi wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about the pink-haired boy. Yoongi wanted to know what he was hiding behind that soft smile because the most beautiful smiles often hide the most pain- he knew from experience. Jimin was a puzzle, and Yoongi was going to solve him. 

Jin made dinner and they talked about the tattoo shop and Taehyung, and then the conversation shifted and they talked about Namjoon’s parents, and eventually, they landed on the subject of Hoseok.

Yoongi missed Hoseok so much it was probably unhealthy, but his daily text messages had eased the pain a little. In all his pictures it looked like he was having tons of fun, and that's all Yoongi needed to know. Hobi texted on the Gay Baes group chat frequently, and always let them know if he hooked up with any of the American guys he met at clubs.   
When dinner was cleaned up, they all snuggled against each other on the couch and watched Spider-Man. It was nice for the couple to be back, Yoongi realized with a content sigh. Even if they were too touchy and sex-addicted, they were family. 

Yoongi didn't sleep well that night, even with the sleeping pills. He lay awake a stared at the ceiling with a frown. He had too much on his mind for his eyes to close or for his breathing to settle at a steady pace. It was like falling through an endless hole, and the anticipation of hitting the bottom was about to kill him. But the bottom never came; the pain never ended. 

When he wasn't thinking about Jimin’s dark secrets, he was thinking about Taemin. It was a whole fucking year, yet Yoongi couldn't seem to get over the whole ordeal. It was only natural, his therapist had said. When someone rapes you and uses you like Taemin, it’s gonna take awhile to get over it. 

But when he thought of Taemin, he thought of Jimin working as a stripper, grinding against the metal pole and blowing a kiss to his rapist- then the cycle would repeat again and again until Yoongi ground his teeth together and pulled his own hair as sweat dripped down his back.

~  
Yoongi was a living zombie when he walked into the cafe. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his brain felt like it was knocking against the sides of his head. Yoongi was only slightly aware that he had worn the same pair of jeans for three days, and his hair was a messy nest. His hands were shaking thanks to the sleeping pills that didn't work, and he could barely see straight from dehydration. 

Thankfully, Yoongi could take care of himself to a certain extent and ordered a bottle of water and a muffin instead of his usual coffee. The barista gave him a worried glance as Yoongi paid for the breakfast, but he ignored her and took his muffin to the small booth in the corner next to the window. He tried to eat the whole thing, but could barely down half of it before he felt the urge to throw it back up. Yoongi cut off the side he ate from and wrapped the rest in a napkin to give to Taehyung.

Classes had resumed for Taehyung, so during the weekdays he would only be able to come some afternoons, but it was the weekend so Taehyung came at 10 am.   
Yoongi walked down to the parlor, wrapping his arms around himself because he forgot to wear a heavier coat. Taehyung was already at the parlor when Yoongi arrived, leaning his piercing supplies.

“Hey, kid,” Yoongi called, dropping the half eaten muffin on the counter. “I brought you breakfast.”

Taehyung came bounding out of his room with a grin, eyes flashing. Yoongi thought he must be in a good mood today. “You did, hyung?”

Yoongi motioned to the crumpled napkin. “No, it's half of my muffin. I didn't finish it.”

Hearing the news, Taehyung’s grin didn't even falter, but he dove straight for the muffin, opening it like a present and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. 

“Hungry?” Yoongi chuckled.

Taehyung nodded sheepishly. “I didn't have time to go home last night so I never ate.”

“Ah. That makes sense. How many customers do you have today?”

“Two.”

“Good, good. Well, I'm going to get back to work.”

“Okay, hyung. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“We’ll do, kid.”

~

 

Monday-

Jimin needed a change. He was bored of this life, and he needed something to change, even if it was something small, so he decided to change his hair color. It was a very minute thing to change, but at this point, Jimin was pretty desperate so he settled on going to the hair salon after classes on Monday. 

The woman greeted him with a loud obnoxious voice that hurt his head, but he couldn't back out now, so he let her push him into a styling chair after scraping his scalp raw with her long-ass fingernails as she washed his hair. She bleached the hair first, an attractive blonde color, but Jimin didn't want blonde. He had decided to go with a platinum silver, a color that Taehyung said would bring out his eyes. 

It took quite a long time to finish the whole process, and Jimin was starting to get a little antsy but the lady finally told him she was done and washed his hair all over again. She dried it, and Jimin admired himself in the mirror with a small grin, fingers fluttering over his new look. 

“Thank you, noona! This looks really good!” He flashed her one of his signature ‘fake’ smiles and walked with her to the front desk where he paid her generously for her time. 

“I’ll come back soon when the roots have grown in,” he waved, marching out of the salon and towards the subway station. Jimin took his time maneuvering around the city, breathing in the refreshing air and loving the sound his boots made as they slapped on the concrete. He thought he was content, but he felt a gap in his body. He couldn't put a finger on the reason, though. 

Maybe it was the fact he held too many secrets. He didn't like keeping things from people, but working with the Mafia was just one of those things he needed to keep hidden in order to keep the people he loved safe. 

When he got to his apartment building, he took the elevator to the top floor, the penthouse level. Namjoon had helped him buy this new apartment a few months ago, and he loved it so far. It was giant, with exposed beams running across the ceiling to give it an industrial aesthetic, and his favorite parts- one huge brick accent wall next to the floor to ceiling windows that looked over the city. It was home, but yet it didn't quite feel like it. He missed living with Taehyung in a cramped college apartment sometimes, but being alone had its perks as well. 

Jimin stamped in the code to his apartment, the door clicked, and Jimin shoved it open and dropped his bag in the doorway after toeing off his shoes. He could see the pastel sky from outside his windows, painted by God’s hand with light blue and soft pink hues. Jimin walked up to the giant glass windows in awe, admiring the beauty of nature and leaning against the cold surface with a content sigh. He needed a change and not just his hair color. 

Jimin was pulled from his thoughts as a loud ring blared around him. He fished around in his vibrating pocket with a curse and pulled out his phone. The caller ID said it was Jisu. 

“Jimin speaking,” he answered formally. You could never be too safe. 

“Jimin, thank god you answered,” she said breathlessly. 

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked quickly, the worry in his voice rising. 

“It's Taehyung, they know where he is.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he pressed frantically. 

“Numbers is after him,” she said. Jimin could tell she was trying to keep her voice level.

“Numbers,” Jimin breathed. Why was that stupid gang of bastards after Taehyung? Most gangs don't get involved in the higher up business of Mafias. In comparison, gangs looked like elementary school kids compared to the complex empire of the Mafia- but Numbers was a slightly different story. Numbers had grown over the past two years, and they were becoming stronger, but they were extremely envious of real Mafias. It took a lot to earn the title of ‘Mafia’, and Numbers just didn't have what it took. They’re always trying to start shit was XTC, just to prove that they’re good enough to be considered a Mafia. Which they’re not. 

“Where is Taehyung? They don't have him yet, right?” Jimin asked.

“No, not yet, but I spotted Number’s men near his house just now. Just a few men. I couldn't tell if they had weapons.”

“Are they still there?” 

“No, they just left.” Jimin could hear the tap of the computer on her end. “But I don't know if they’ll come back.”

“Okay,” Jimin muttered, mind thinking about a hundred miles an hour. “Okay. You called Taehyung, right?”

“Yeah, he knows.”

“Get him in some gear and on the street,” Jimin ordered. The sun outside started to sneak behind the mountains. “We both know that's the only way he can protect himself. We can't send of our men over there.”

“That's the worst idea I've ever heard,” Jisu said. “Taehyung lives with his girlfriend, he can't just suit up, grab a gun, and run outside.”

“Why not? Just get her out of the house.”

Jisu sighed angrily. “No! Even if we could get her out of the house, Tae can't fight on the streets! I thought you knew this, Jimin. We’re not fighting a petty gang like Numbers. We can't trust Taehyung, either. You know it, too.”

Jimin tried to slow his breathing. It was the sad truth, but it wasn't a good idea to send Taehyung out on the streets with a gun. Taehyung only took underground jobs, and he only worked alone. XTC had made the mistake in the past of giving him a partner. It didn't end well. Taehyung couldn't be discreet in the streets of Seoul; he would wreak havoc. They both knew Taehyung couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault. 

Yet, they couldn't send anyone to protect Taehyung, either. Taehyung had to get underground if he wanted to protect himself. 

“Get him underground, then,” Jimin said simply. 

“Not an option, either,” Jisu said. Her voice was significantly calmer, she must not be seeing any more signs of danger. “There are only three under-ports in Seoul, and Numbers   
has men swarming around two of them. The third one is closed for repair.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking with me,” Jimin deadpanned. 

“Nope. Numbers can't do anything. Hell, they can't even access the ports, they just want to stop the flow of traffic. Everyone who’s underground is pretty much stuck right now until we get some of our men to chase them away.”

“Why do they want to clog the ports?” Jimin asked, carding a hand through his silver hair. 

“Who knows,” she snorted. “It's probably one of those stupid declarations of power they pull every now and then. I'm not worried about XTC, just Taehyung.”

“I wonder why they were hanging around Tae’s apartment…” Jimin mumbled. 

“Because if they capture Tae and use him as a hostage, the whole Mafia will pay the big bucks to get him back. I assume he hasn't been hiding his face very well, or else we wouldn't be in this situation. Numbers knows he’s one of our greatest assets, and they want to use him. It's the classic villain story, don't ya think?”

 

“Funny,” Jimin said humorlessly. “I’ll take a walk around Seoul and stop by Tae’s apartment.”

“Don't you dare think about fighting anyone around Taehyung,” Jisu warned.

 

“Of course not.”

“Good. Turn your tracker on; I’ll let you know if I see any more thugs hanging around his apartment.”

“And if a port opens up, let me or Tae know right away,” he reminded, reaching to his wrist and flicking his watch tracker on. 

“They’re working on unclogging port two, I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Thanks, Jisu,” he said, turning away from the sunset and walking to his room. “Talk to you soon.”

“Stay safe, Jiminie,” she reminded him. 

“Of course.” Jimin ended the call and threw it on his bed with a sigh. He wasn't expecting to be hopping around Seoul with a gun today, but what can you do? Jimin threw on a pair of black pants and a long black coat. He pulled on a hat and a dust mask. He wasn't about to wear his XTC mask in public, and this disguise hid his face pretty well. Jimin slipped into his black boots and opened the top drawer of his dresser. He had to dig through underwear before his fingers found the small handgun. He grabbed an extra clip just in case as he discreetly pushed the gun into the waist of his jeans. 

Jimin looked into the mirror and cringed. He hated doing this kind of thing on a Monday evening. He shook off the weird feeling and marched out his apartment, right past his backpack that he dropped at the door. He walked down the long hallway and pressed the button to summon the elevator. 

He walked into the elevator when the golden doors slid open, and he pressed the ground floor button. Jimin could see his distorted figure on the shiny metal walls, and it felt so wrong to look at himself when he knew what he was about to do. He wanted to run away from XTC, but he had to take care of Taehyung. Kim Taehyung- XTC’s greatest asset, yet he wasn't allowed to defend himself unless he was alone with the enemy… underground. Jimin always felt bad for his best friend.

The ding of the elevator jerked him back to reality, and he slid out into the lobby, jogging out the double doors and down the street before anyone could tell he was gone. He   
took the subway just ten minutes down the city to where Taehyung lived.

He walked around the block a few times, circling the apartment complex to keep an eye out for Number thugs. After an hour- when he deemed the place clear of any activity- he finally came up the stairs of the building and stopped at Taehyung’s door. He knocked three times, shuffling from foot to foot. 

“Who is it?” Someone called from inside. The voice was a little too low pitched to be Taehyung’s, yet Jimin knew it was the boy just masking his voice for protection. 

“Jimin.”

The door immediately unlocked and Taehyung appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in all black baggy clothes, just like Jimin. Taehyung must have understood the memo. 

“Tae,” Jimin breathed, trying to shove his way inside the apartment. 

Taehyung grabbed his arm before he could get all the way through and whispered in his ear, “Don't say anything risky, Lisa is in the kitchen. She doesn't know.”

Jimin nodded silently, walking inside and straight towards Taehyung’s room. He came into the boy’s room and went to the small closet behind the door. The metal closet had a lock on it, and only Jimin knew the password. It had been like that since Jimin had joined XTC. The Mafia had told that if he could keep Taehyung under control, they wouldn't sell the boy. Jimin agreed. There’s nothing that made him sicker than thinking about Taehyung being sold to a different Mafia just because he was an amazing fighter. Even if he didn't live with Tae anymore, he could still protect him. 

He twisted in the password and the lock clicked open. Taehyung appeared in the doorway, frowning. His eyes were nervous. 

“Pack your bags, Tae. You’re going underground for a little while,” Jimin said, opening the closet doors. 

Taehyung sighed. He had done this many times before. “But Lisa…”

“Tell her you're going to see family in Daegu,” Jimin suggested. 

“All of the sudden? She’s not dumb, Jimin.”

“I know that TaeTae, but we’re on a tight schedule. I don't know what else to say.”

“None of the ports are even open yet,” he whined, closing the door behind him as he walked into the room. 

“We can't leave yet, but I want to be ready to leave as soon as one opens,” Jimin muttered. “Go tell Lisa you’ll be away for two days, then pack up.”

Taehyung hummed. “Alright.” He turned on his heel and walked away. Jimin just hoped she would buy the story.

He turned back towards the open closet and eyed Taehyung’s armor. It was created a few years ago, just for the boy. It was made mostly of black latex to adapt to Taehyung’s movements but had hard neon green shells on the chest, arms, and legs. It looked like something from out of a movie. Jimin threw the armor on his bed and shuffled deeper into the closet and reached into a cardboard box. He pulled out Taehyung’s helmet. It looked like a motorcycle helmet, a sleek black body with one green stripe down the middle. Nothing could penetrate this helmet, and Jimin threw it on the bed next to the suit with a sigh. The bed started to pile up- a pair of green gloves, an extra pair of underwear, and one simple key. 

Jimin locked up the closet again and waited on Taehyung’s desk chair for a solid thirty minutes while Tae tried to convince Lisa he was going to Daegu. Tae eventually came back in the room with an even bigger frown. 

“Did she take it?” Jimin asked. 

“She took it,” he muttered, grabbing a duffle bag and shoving all the clothes from the bed into it. “I told her my grandmother was sick.”

“Good. I’ll be in the living room when you're done. Take your time, Tae.”

“Jimin,” Tae said, reaching out and wrapping his hand around the shorter boy’s shirt. His voice held 1,000 meanings. “... that color looks nice on you.”

Jimin smiled. “Thanks, I just got it done today. My barber scraped my scalp off with her claws, though. Not pleasant.”

Taehyung laughed and rolled his eyes. “You’re just week, Jiminie. Oh,” his mouth popped open in a small ‘o’ shape as he realized something. “I have to tell Yoongi hyung I won't make it into work tomorrow afternoon.”

Jimin swallowed. “Yeah, you should call him up. Tell him the same thing you told Lisa. I’ll be out here.” Jimin went to the couch where he collapsed on the couch. He could remember sitting on this couch with Taehyung- stoned, drunk, sad, happy, confused, tired, bored. He would come home from school and bury his face in the pillow- just like this. It still smelled like those times, he thought solemnly. But then he had to go and get a girlfriend. 

“Hello, Jimin oppa,” Lisa called from the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Jimin peeled himself from the couch and wandered to the kitchen where Lisa was sitting at the island, scrolling through her phone. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, smiling up at him.

“I'm just here to wish Taehyung goodbye. He’s feeling a little stressed, just hearing the news of his grandmother and all.”

Lisa nodded solemnly, earrings swinging back and forth. “I can't imagine what he must be going through. He really loves that woman, although I've never met her.”

Lisa will never meet her, Jimin thought. Taehyung’s grandmother had been dead for over seven years. Taehyung just kept her alive in his little fantasy world so he could trick people when he needed a cheap ploy- like this. It was a quick answer to any problem. ‘Hey, Taehyung, why have you been gone so often lately?’ which to the boy would respond, ‘My grandma was sick’. ‘You look rough, Tae. What happened?’ ‘Oh sorry, my grandmother has been sick and it’s taking an emotional toll on me’. 

It was a sick, twisted thing to do, but Taehyung had no choice. If he had a choice, he would pretend his grandma was really dead, and he wouldn't work for XTC. But, as said before, once you're in the Mafia, you don't get out. 

“Yeah, they’re very close,” Jimin nodded along, glancing towards the bedroom. His phone vibrated in his pocket before Lisa could say anything else. “Jimin,” he answered, pressing the phone to his ear. 

“Port three is open,” Jisu said without even saying hello. “Are you getting Taehyung? I assume he’ll only have to be in the base for a day.”

“I'm sorry I can't make it to the library,” Jimin said. “My friend’s grandmother is sick and he’s not handling the news too well. Can we reschedule for tomorrow night?”

Jisu caught on quickly, and Jimin thanked God she was so street smart. “Oh, of course. No worries Jimin. I’ll expect Taehyung at the base soon.”

“Thanks for understanding,” Jimin said, voice mock apologetic. “I'm sorry again for the misunderstanding. Goodbye.” He hung up the phone with a discreet smirk. 

“You’re a good friend,” Jisu said. 

“Only the best,” Jimin said, turning to Lisa with a smile. 

Taehyung popped up in the kitchen doorway. “I'm leaving now,” he announced, walking over to Lisa and giving her a hug. Jimin turned away and went to the door to give them some privacy. 

Five minutes later, he and Jimin were tromping down the complex stairs. Taehyung pulled his hood up and tugged his mask over his mouth. He obviously wasn't in a good mood. Jimin couldn't blame him, though.

“Lisa is a nice girl,” Jimin said, trying to start a conversation as they trudged to port 3, only using back alleys. 

“Yeah.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. Sometimes the boy wouldn't shut up, but right now he was all business. “Relax, will you? You’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry, Jiminie,” he apologized with an embarrassed chuckle. “I was just thinking about Numbers.”

“They’re the dumbest group of bastards I've ever laid eyes on,” Jimin laughed. 

“True,” Taehyung giggled. “It's just funny to watch them clog up ports and go after me. They try so hard sometimes.”

“Yeah, and we both know they can't lay a hand on you.” 

Taehyung laughed and flexed his arm. “Not with these guns, they can't.”

Jimin smiled as they ducked behind another alleyway. “You are the strongest, Taetae.”

“I'm sorry for making you take care of me,” he suddenly blurted. 

Jimin sighed. They have this conversation all the time. “I'm not taking care of you, Tae,” Jimin said. “I'm literally just walking you underground.” 

“You know what I mean,” he whined. “I just can't help it sometimes. I hate that XTC never lets me fight on the streets, but I also know I can lose control easily.”

“It's not your fault, Taehyungie,” he encouraged. 

“I know,” Tae mumbled. “And I know your not my babysitter, either.”

“That's right,” Jimin laughed, punching him in the arm. “You’re my best friend- the edgy piercer who can fucking annihilate all his enemies like an anime character. And be a part-time dance major.”

Taehyung laughed out loud. “Well, I am the coolest person in the world. Multi-tasking comes naturally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knew Taehyung and Jimin would be in a Mafia??? This was an intense chapter to write, and I promise the whole story won't be as twisted as is it sounds. There is no supernatural crap going on. 
> 
> Feedback is appreciated as always <3  
> Any questions to clear the plot up a bit??
> 
> (Also Back to Black is a great song and I broke the replay button real talk)


	6. Love According to a Customer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating late, school has really been kicking my butt :(
> 
> This is sort of a filler chapter, but I just needed to get through all the important stuff before we can move on

Taehyung called and told Yoongi he wouldn't be at work because his grandmother was sick and he had to travel to Daegu. Yoongi let the boy off the hook- it was his grandmother after all- but he had to call all Taehyung’s appointments and explain why they would have to reschedule. 

Hoseok came home from America on Sunday, and the whole night they talked about his experience in America. Apparently, that country was pretty sleazy, because all Hoseok talked about was how everyone wore short shorts and crop tops. And according to him, America was the most accepting society he had ever seen. 

After Hoseok finished class on Tuesday, he stopped by the parlor. Yoongi was just starting on a customers tattoo when Hoseok popped his head through the door.  
“Hey Yoongi!” he greeted. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

Yoongi didn't even look up, focused on inking the small tattoo. It would only take about thirty minutes. “It's mkay,” he called as he wiped away some of the blood that had started to bead on the customer’s skin. It was a simple tattoo- a tiny sailboat on a woman’s arm. Yoongi liked the lack of detail and made a mental note to remember the tattoo; maybe he would want something like that on his skin forever. 

Hoseok grabbed a coke out of the red mini fridge and plopped down on the couch, scrolling through his phone and giggling every now and then. Yoongi made small talk with the woman as he pressed the needle into her skin. 

“Is this your first tattoo?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “It's my second. There’s one on my back. An old lover’s name.” Yoongi felt her cringe at the obvious memory of a lover. “That was a bad decision.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Most couple tattoos are. Thank God I don't have one.”

“Lucky,” she muttered. “Loving someone is blinding. You don't think about the bad decisions you made with them until they’re gone.”

“That's very true.” Yoongi was well aware he was nearing the deep-end of sensitive conversation topics. If his customer wanted to talk about blinding love, he wasn't going to say no. Most tattoo artists are part-time therapists- people come in here to get memories tattooed on their skin; and that sometimes comes along with a lot of emotional garbage. Often times, people get tattoos to either keep a good memory or get over a bad one. 

“Sorry for eavesdropping,” Hoseok called from the couch. “But I couldn't help but overhear. I think love is fake.”

“That has nothing to do with-” Yoongi started, rolling his eyes.

“You may be right,” the woman said, not affected by the sway of conversation (or Hoseok’s nosiness). “I mean, how do you even know what love feels like?”

“See? She gets it,” Hoseok yelled, standing up and marching over to the tattooing station. “I mean, who even decided what love was supposed to feel like?”

“I know! People say you’ll ‘just know’ when you’re in love; That you’ll feel a ‘spark’ or something when you kiss. I call bullshit.”

“Bullshit!” Hoseok agreed. “Besides, even if you someone once, how can you do it a second time? Isn't love supposed to be a one-time thing?”

“That doesn't make sense,” Yoongi interjected. 

“Yes it does,” Hoseok whined. “You just have to think about for a few days.”

“Days?” 

“Yeah, days,” Hoseok repeated. “You have more than enough time.”

“Go back to the couch where you came from, I'm trying to work,” Yoongi said, ignoring his most recent comment. Hoseok pouted but shuffled back to the couch.

After Yoongi was done with the tattoo, he wrapped it up carefully and explained how to take care of it. After she was clear on the instructions and had paid, Yoongi sent her off with a smile and wave.

“Wait!” Hoseok yelled before she could walk out the door. “Can I have your number?”

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolded.

 

The woman laughed. “Sure thing. Give me your phone.”

Yoongi watched in slight awe and disgust as they swapped phone numbers. Hoseok promised to text her when he figures out what love is, and she promised the same thing. She finally did leave this time, with an even bigger grin. 

“Hoseok, that's so unprofessional,” Yoongi groaned. 

“Hey, I don't work here, I can get whoever’s number I want,” he defended with a smirk.

“Aren't you gay?” Yoongi deadpanned.

“Pansexual, Yoongi! I've told you this eight times.”

“Right, right. Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“I was just coming to say hi. And also to invite you somewhere.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Oh yeah?”

Hoseok nodded enthusiastically, red hair bobbing up and down. “Yup! I want you to come to my dance competition. It's right here in Seoul.”

“When is it?” Yoongi didn't really need to know when it would be, he already decided he would go. He always went to Hoseok’s competitions when they were in Seoul.

“Two weeks from now,” Hoseok chirped. “I'm doing a solo and a group dance.”

“Really? Who’s in the group dance?” Yoongi asked.

“Only the people I chose from my dance class,” Hoseok said with a wink. “So, only the best of the best. We’ll definitely win.”

“Is Jungkook in the group?” Yoongi wondered. From the way Hoseok constantly talked about Jungkook’s extreme talent, Yoongi expected the boy to play a part in his dance.

Hoseok nodded. “Yup! As I said, only the best. So, will you come?”

Yoongi chuckled. Sometimes Hoseok could be so petty. “Of course I’ll come. I have to watch the best of the best in action.”

Hoseok pumped his fists in victory as he grabbed his coat from the rack. “I have to go to the dance studio, I’ll see you soon.”

Yoongi nodded. “Kay, I’ll see you.”  
“Bye-bye, Yoonie,” he sang, flying out the door and down the sidewalk.  
Yoongi chuckled quietly and grabbed a drink from the mini fridge, popping the cap open with a satisfying snap. What a weird guy, Yoongi thought.

~

REWIND: Monday night- XTC underground bunker 3 LxS (Luxury Suits)

 

“Sexy,” Taehyung marveled, boredom lacing his voice as he looked around the suit. The room was stylishly decorated with a huge plush king sized bed, a small kitchenette, and a large bathroom complete with a claw-foot tub and glass shower. The walls were gold and burgundy, and three glass chandeliers draped down from the high ceilings, making up for the lack of windows. 

Taehyung almost had to remind himself that he was underground. 

“You've been upgraded,” Jimin said. 

“As if my other room wasn't luxurious enough.”

“Well now you have a kitchen,” Jimin sighed. “You should bake a cake or something.” 

Taehyung snorted as he dropped his duffle bag on the floor. “Fabulous. Where is my weapon cabinet?”

Jimin pointed to a small golden closet next to the bed. “There. I don't really know what they gave you.”  
“Let's take a look,” he muttered, walking to the closet and sliding the doors open. Two M16 guns hung on the inside, along with a belt of clips and a dagger. Taehyung took out the dagger with careful fingers, observing the sleek weapon. “Now I can cut my cake.”

Jimin laughed and rolled his eyes. 

“I don't think I’ll need these,” Taehyung said, putting the knife back and closing the door. “They won't find me. They never find me when I hide in a suit. They only find me when I'm walking the tunnels or the underground markets.”

“True,” Jimin sighed. “But you can never be too safe.”

“Right. You should go, Jiminie. Don't you have classes tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to tell your art professor why you aren't going to be at school tomorrow?” Jimin asked.

“I already emailed him,” Taehyung said, giving Jimin a little goodbye hug. “Thanks for looking out for me, Jiminie.”

Jimin smiled, leaning into the embrace. “Sure thing, Taetae. Jisu said she was going to swing by the suit later tonight to say hi to you. Text me if you need anything.”

“Sure thing. See you later.”

“Alright, bye Tae,” Jimin said, walking to the golden door and planting a hand on the cold doorknob. “And save me some cake.” Jimin shut the door, cutting off Taehyung’s happy laughter. 

Jimin started down the brightly lit hallway silently and took the elevator up to level -1. He got out of the elevator and walked into to the musty, dark hallway- the complete opposite of the suite hallway. Jimin observed all the graffiti that lined the walls under the flickering fluorescent lights as he walked down to the port exit stairway. The place smelled of drugs and sex, and it was no wonder when he heard loud moans coming from a door he promptly walked past. Most of the rooms on this level were for low-income Mafia guards that couldn't afford their own house, so they slept in the public free suits 

Jimin reached the end of the hallway where a heavy metal door sat. The XTC logo had been spray painted on the surface. Jimin pushed the door open and found himself in the stairwell, and he climbed to the top, where the word “PORTAL #3” was displayed on an ugly green door. Jimin typed his password into the key code bar, and the door unlocked with an audible click. Jimin pushed through into a convenience store break room. He giggled the handle of the door just to make sure it locked.  
XTC had paid different locations- shitty convenience stores, bars, clubs- to hide their portals. It was a good deal, and both sides benefited. Only XTC workers could access the doors, and the password was different for each member. Instead of numbers, it was a full keyboard password- containing letters, symbols, numbers, and in some cases- keyboard patterns. Needless to say, the passwords were difficult to figure out. 

Right now, Jimin’s password was 10REMEMBER@#아기자식. Anyone could change their passwords if they contacted Jisu; it was a safety precaution every XTC member has taken at least once in their career. 

As Jimin entered the dingy break room (that also apparently served as the storage room), a worker jumped in his seat but settled when he realized who it was. Just another goddamn XTC worker. The fat man went back to eating his sandwich.

Jimin brushed past him wordlessly, walking into the crappy convenience store and grabbing a coke from the refrigerator on the way to the counter. When he dropped the drink onto the counter, the cashier looked up in surprise. His old crinkly eyes softened when he recognized the young boy’s face. 

“Jimin,” the manager greeted with a well-worn smile. 

“Minji-nim,” Jimin said with a soft grin as he looked the old man up and down. He was the same as always- a ratty baseball cap on his bald head and a smile like none other. 

“How are you doing, young man?” the older asked with a concerned glance. 

“I'm good, how about you?” Jimin asked politely.

“Ah, I'm hanging in there.” He looked down at the coke. “Is this your dinner?”

Jimin looked away sheepishly, giving the older man an obvious answer. “This is nothing for a growing boy,” Minji exclaimed. “Go get some meat!”

“Ah- Minji-nim, I'm fine. I'm not very hungry,” Jimin said, shaking his head. 

“Sure you are, go pick out some real food,” he ordered, waving Jimin away from the counter. 

Jimin sighed and wandered down the nearest aisle, eyeing the bags of food. He grabbed a bag of Doritos and walked back to the cash register where Minji was looking at him with a disappointed roll of his eyes. 

“Doritos,” he said sarcastically. “A fine choice for a healthy dinner.”

“What every, hyungnim,” Jimin responded with a huff, earning a laugh from the older man. Jimin paid for the drink and chips and threw his change in the tip jar. “Bye Minji-ssi,” he called. “Have a good week.”

“Goodbye Jimin! Stay out of trouble, alright?”

Jimin snorted. It was an ironic joke between the two. Jimin liked that Minji didn't skirt around the subject of him being in a Mafia and that they could laugh about it. He was a sarcastic old bastard with a caring nature, and Jimin saw him as a sort of father. 

Jimin went back to his loft in the dark and finished his homework. 

~

“You’re going where?” Jin asked, frowning.

“Hagye. On Friday,” Yoongi answered blandly, twirling his chopsticks around in his noodles. Jin had come over to the apartment Tuesday night to make dinner for him and Namjoon. It was delicious as always. 

“You told me you never wanted to back there,” Jin reminded.

Jin didn't know Yoongi had already been to Hagye, and the younger wanted to keep it that way. “I can take care of myself, mom,” Yoongi said, shrugging. 

Namjoon snorted unattractively. “Let him go,” he said, waving his boyfriend off. “Mom.”

Jin rolled his eyes with a pout. “Whatever.” 

Jin and Namjoon cleaned the dishes after dinner, sharing sweet kissed and back hugs before Yoongi threw up in his mouth a little and resorted to sitting on the couch and finishing some sketches. Right now he was working on a pencil sketch of someone dancing- just a simple anatomy review to loosen up his hand- but the more he drew, he realized it started to look like Jimin. Thick thighs, full cheeks, large eyes, flexible body. Yoongi cringed at the similarities. Was he really creepy enough to draw a stripper he tattooed once?

Truthfully, that's why he wanted to go to Hagye in the first place. He wanted- no- he needed to see Jimin, even if it was from a distance. He couldn't get the boy’s body out of his mind, the way his abs tightened underneath the fishnets. Yoongi thought if he went on a Friday he would have a better chance of seeing Jimin- since that's when he worked the last time Yoongi saw him. It was a slim chance, considering Taeyang had a whole truck full of strippers- but it was still a chance. 

Yoongi slapped his sketchbook shut with a groan. Why couldn't he keep his mind under control? 

 

“You okay, there?” Jin asked, eyeing him from the kitchen doorway with a smirk. 

“F-Fine,” Yoongi stuttered, throwing the book onto the table with a frustrated sigh. “Just tired.”

“These dishes aren't going to wash themselves, Cinderella!” Namjoon yelled from the kitchen. 

“Right, right, I'm coming,” Jin sighed, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. “Go get some rest, Yoongi.”

“Kay, hyung,” Yoongi promised. True to his word, he gathered his drawing pad and padded off to his room where he shut the door with a quiet click. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled in between the cool sheets, sighing because he knew it would be another sleepless night. 

~

 

Taehyung came back to work on Wednesday afternoon with a cup of coffee for Yoongi. Yoongi was busy tattooing a cat onto a woman’s leg but looked up from where he was working to send the boy a small subdued smile. 

“Hey, Taehyung,” Yoongi called.

“Good afternoon, hyung,” Taehyung called back with a grin, waving after he set down the coffee on Yoongi’s desk. “Sorry I missed work the other day.”

“That's okay. How’s your grandmother?”

Taehyung frowned at that. “Not too good, actually. I might have to go back to Daegu again if she gets any worse.”

Yoongi waved him off. “You can miss as much work as you need. I hope she feels better.”

“Thanks, hyung,” the boy said honestly. “That means a lot.”

Yoongi nodded and turned his focus back to the tattoo. He didn't know the connection Taehyung had with his grandmother, but he assumed they were pretty close.   
He finished up with the tattoo three hours later, proudly wiping the woman’s leg down one last time so she could get the full effect when she looked in the mirror.

“Wow,” she said, stunned into silence as she looked down at the detailed cat inked on her leg. “I love it.”

“I'm glad,” Yoongi said, flashing a gummy smile.   
They finished up- Yoongi instructing her on how to take care of the new ink, and the woman paying him a hefty stack of bills. She left with a smile on her face, and a kind ‘thank you’ from Yoongi. 

“Your coffee got cold,” Taehyung whined from behind the counter. 

“I can just warm it up,” Yoongi shrugged.

“Where? You don't have a microwave, hyung. I'm bringing a microwave tomorrow.”

“You have an extra microwave just lying around your house?” Yoongi deadpanned. 

“Yep! Jimin bought me a new one for Christmas this year! I’ll bring in my old one,” Taehyung chirped, uncapping a marker and writing the word MICROWAVE on his arm. 

“He bought you a microwave for Christmas?” 

“I asked,” Taehyung shrugged, blowing on his arm so the ink would dry.  
Yoongi rolled his eyes; he wasn't even surprised. 

~

Yoongi climbed out of the subway, going with the flow of people towards the stairs that would take him into the streets of Gangnam. It was Friday night, almost nine o’clock. The streets that were once filled with businessmen and women had been replaced by club-goers and thugs. It was a little suffocating- the city. Yoongi didn't miss it.

Per usual, Yoongi took his time walking Hagye, allowing his eyes to wander around the alleys, bright neon billboards and hotel signs blaring obnoxiously in his eyes. When he got to Hagye, the main line wrapped around the building. The bouncers looked as menacing as ever, arms crossed over their chests and nostrils flaring. Yoongi remembered that he was on the VIP list- thanks to Taeyang- and hopped in the much shorter line.

“Name?” the bouncer demanded, eyeing the clipboard in his sweaty palms, then eyeing Yoongi’s outfit skeptically- a pair of black jeans with rips in the thighs, an oversized white t-shirt, and a green bomber jacket. Obviously, the guy didn't think Yoongi fit the VIP profile. 

“Min Yoongi.”

The boxy man glared at Yoongi before slowly turning his eyes down to the list. After a few awkward moments of flipping pages and searching for a name that matches, the guy nodded with a huff and unclipped the thick red rope to let Yoongi inside the club. 

“Have a good night, sir,” he said, apology thick in his voice as he moved to the side. 

“You too,” Yoongi called with a polite wave. He was never the type to hold grudges. He walked down the dark hallway, already hearing the party blaring and feeling the base pumping through the floor and sending shock waves up his spine.

Yoongi reminded himself why he didn't like clubs when he walked into the main room. It was just like every Friday, dirty, loud, smokey, sexual. People had their arms raised above their heads, bouncing to the obnoxious music and swaying their bodies. Yoongi went to the bar, noticing that the bartender that had served him last time was behind the counter again with a fake smile, stirring some fruity drink. 

“Back again, huh? It's been a while,” the guy drawled as Yoongi slid onto the barstool in front of him. 

He was a little surprised the man remembered him. “It has. I don't like clubs.”

The man raised a brow as he handed the cocktail a woman sitting next to Yoongi. “Really? Because I just saw you walk through the VIP entrance a few seconds ago.”

“I have connections,” Yoongi said, waving the bartender off casually. 

The man only chuckled. “What can I get you?”

Yoongi thought for a moment, eyeing the chalkboard menu. He didn't really plan on drinking, but when the opportunity presents itself… sure, he’ll take a drink. “Give me one of those fruity things,” Yoongi decided, pointing to the drink that was just handed to the woman. 

“Coming right up, sir,” he said, bowing a little too dramatically and sarcastically for Yoongi’s liking. 

“Have someone bring that to the VIP lounge,” Yoongi called, hopping off the barstool and sauntering to the lounge entrance. A big neon sign over to arched entrance declared the room to be the ‘HAGYE LOUNGE’. Two more bouncers stool guarding the huge threshold, eyes on the search for minors or fakes. 

Just like the previous one, the guard looked Yoongi up and down skeptically, eyeing his unprofessional tattoos and street clothes. Yoongi could see inside the lounge, people with sparkly black dresses and suits talked among themselves or sat comfortably on the white leather couches scattered through the purple-tinted room. 

“Name?” the bouncer huffed, ready to throw out another loser who tried to worm their way into the lounge under a different name. 

“Min Yoongi,” he answered, voice confident because he knew Taeyang had put him on every VIP list in Hagye. 

The bouncer glanced down at his clipboard, ruffling through a few pages to find the M’s and then slamming a sausage finger down on the board when he located Yoongi’s name.   
“Sorry about that, sir. Right this way.” He unlocked the rope and spread an arm out to allow Yoongi to walk through into the lounge. 

“Thank you,” Yoongi muttered, ignoring the confused glances shot his way by the other VIP members. He spotted Taeyang in the back next to the pool table with a woman on his hip- his fiance. He started in that direction, knowing exactly what he needed to ask the older man. He maneuvered around the countless professional-looking people and called out a, “Hey, Taeyang!”

Taeyang’s eyes shot up from where he was hunched over the pool table. “Yoongi?”

“Wassup?”

“I didn't know you were coming tonight,” Taeyang mused, walking over to the mint-haired man, his fiance still on his hip. “Good to see you. Have I introduced you to my fiance?”

“I don't think we’ve met,” Yoongi said, extending a hand to her. She was a pretty girl with long black hair and cool gray eyes. She had on a fitting red dress. “Min Yoongi.”

“Min Hyo-rin,” she greeted, shaking his hand with a warm smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“So what are you doing here, Yoongi?” Taeyang asked. He knew Yoongi didn't really like clubbing or Hagye in general. 

“I was hoping to talk to you,” Yoongi said, sending a direct message to the older man with his eyes that said, ‘I need to talk to you alone right now’. 

“Sure,” he nodded, resting a hand on his fiance's arm to peel away from her. “You’ll excuse me, babe? I’ll be right back.”

“Of course,” she bowed politely, walking back to the pool table. 

“You run a gay club and are getting married to a girl?” Yoongi asked with a smirk on his face.

Taeyang chuckled. “Yep.”

“Weird.” 

“Anyways, was there something you wanted to talk about?” Taeyang asked.

“Yeah. I was going to ask about one of your strippers.”

Taeyang’s eyebrows began on a journey north. “Really? Wanna sit down?” He motioned Yoongi to one of the white leather couches in the corner, right under a bright neon purple sign. Yoongi sank into the couch, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Sir?” someone asked, making Yoongi almost jump out of his skin. It was a bartender with his drink.  
Yoongi took the glass with a polite thank you and then turned back to Taeyang.

“So what’s this all about, huh?” he asked. 

“You know most of the strippers that work here, right?” Yoongi asked for clarification.

“I hire all of them myself. I know each one.”

“Good. Then you’ll know a certain boy named Park Jimin?” Yoongi asked, taking a slow sip. The cocktail was grossly fruity, just like he suspected. 

Taeyang cocked his head, a look of confusion sweeping over his features. “Park Jimin?” he questioned. “I don't know of anyone by that name.”

Yoongi let out an annoyed huff. “I was here a few Fridays ago, I saw him dancing on the stage.”

“Describe him, maybe I’ll remember,” Taeyang suggested, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees in a thoughtful manner.

“He’s almost my height with pink hair. Big brown eyes. Abs. Great thighs. Big lips. Cute.”

Taeyang’s face scrunched up as he laughed. “I've never heard you call anyone cute before, Yoongi.”

“That doesn't matter,” Yoongi said, trying not to whine- but failing miserably. “Do you know who I'm talking about?”

Taeyang nodded slowly, hesitant. “I know someone that matches your description, but his name isn't Park Jimin.”

“Huh?” 

“His name is Kim Wadae,” Taeyang informed.

“Kim Wadae? No, his name is Park Jimin,” Yoongi countered. 

“Maybe we’re talking about different people,” he shrugged. “Does Park Jimin have a tattoo on his collarbone?”

“Yeah, I tattooed him,” Yoongi said. “It says ‘Remember’.”

“Well hell,” Taeyang mused. “We’re talking about the same person.”

Yoongi frowned. What the hell? Is he really Park Jimin or Kim Wadae? Taehyung calls him Jimin, so does everyone else. 

“He only worked here for a week,” Taeyang said matter-of-factly. “I hired him on Monday, he worked the whole week, and then quit Friday after work.”

That's when he threatened Taeyang, Yoongi remembered. 

“He didn't even give me a reason,” the older man shrugged. “He just quit.”

“Wow,” Yoongi breathed. He didn't really know what else to say.

“Why did you want to know about him? Did something happen?” Taeyang’s eyebrows knit together in worry. 

“No… I just-” Yoongi started over, recollecting his thoughts. “When he applied, did he say if he had any other jobs?”

Taeyang frowned, lost in thought as he tried to recall. “He said something about a side-job, but I don't remember anything else.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I just don't understand why you think his name is Park Jimin,” Taeyang mumbled. 

Yoongi shrugged, trying to figure it out himself. “I don't know. All his friends call him Jimin, though.”

“He must have applied under a fake name,” he settled. “Sometimes people do that when they become strippers, just because of the reputation.”

“Makes sense,” Yoongi sighed. But, then again, it didn't really make sense. It didn't make sense why he would only work here a week, or why he wanted to hide his identity. It didn't make sense why Park Jimin wanted words from a condom wrapper permanently inked on his skin, or why he carries a gun, or why he slipped a knife into Taehyung’s pocket with a worried look. Park Jimin didn't make sense.

 

He was a puzzle, and Yoongi was going to solve him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very short and very late, whoops 
> 
> I'll try my best to deliver a new ch. next Friday (Or sat)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Feel free to comment! I love hearing your thoughts


	7. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimin finally tells the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, look! I'm behind schedule again!  
>  Sorry for the late update, I really wanted to get it posted on Friday but whoops :(
> 
> (Also sorry for the slow burn, this is turning into a very long story...)
> 
> Thank you for over 1k hits!! It means so much that people actually read this :(((

Sunday-

Taehyung knew it was only a matter of time before Numbers found him. It wasn't really hard to accomplish on their part, either. They knew where he and his girlfriend lived, and they knew what he looked like. That was his fault- he hadn't been wearing his helmet recently when he went underground. Oddly enough, he thought the helmet was cool and badass, but he didn't like to wear it underground. Originally, XTC was the only organization using the sewers and underground markets, but it didn't stay that way forever. Numbers gained an under-port just outside of Gangnam, giving them access to a handful of tunnels leading into XTC’s markets. Now both XTC members and Numbers’ thugs were mixed together- most of the time they got along; few of them liked to start unnecessary shit, but a few of them did. 

Kim Taehyung had to be careful- he was, objectively, important. All the other Mafias wanted to have Taehyung on their side- not only because he was a great fighter, but because he worked for relatively low wages. Close to nothing, actually. His work ethic was quite interesting. He knew what he was doing is illegal, and he said that if he was going to be bad, he wasn't going to be rewarded by money. 

Kim Taehyung didn't want to be rewarded for bad deeds. 

So, he didn't make much money even when he was the most wanted fighter in Seoul and got a job at Yoongi’s parlor to bring him out of college financially. It was a good deal, Taehyung went to the parlor most days after school and worked until 5 o’clock, then trudged underground to meet with his job-dealer, and stayed up all night scheming plans to get the job done. 

He would leave the Mafia if he could, but he couldn't. He had messed up, and there was no going back. But even though there was no hope for him, he had screwed up and dragged Jimin into the Mafia. 

And now Yoongi. 

It was an accident; Taehyung worked on instinct, and when he noticed three Numbers thugs following him on the way to school, he did the first thing that came to mind- went to the parlor. It was the closest place he could go so early in the morning. He knew Yoongi didn't come in until 10 on the weekdays, and it was 5:30, so he had time to hide out until the thugs got bored and walk away. Or so he thought. 

Taehyung unlocked the parlor door and slammed it shut after he stumbled inside, locking the door again. He breathed out a sigh of relief, sinking against the door. Outside the window, he could see the three thugs across the street talking among themselves and sending glances to the parlor. 

That's when Taehyung realized this have not might have been the best idea. 

He glanced around nervously, looking for some kind of weapon. There was nothing except his piercing supplies and tattoo guns. Unless he wanted to give Numbers a nice memorial tattoo, he had nothing to protect himself with. Which was probably for the best, anyways. He had a tendency to lose control when he started fighting- that's why he worked alone… underground. He couldn't be trusted to work next to anyone else after what happened last time when XTC gave him a partner. It wasn't his fault, the urge to get revenge was just too strong to contain. 

Taehyung fished his phone out from his coat pocket, clicking his emergency contact with a shaky finger. The phone ringed three times before a voice was heard on the other end. “Hello? Taehyung?”

“Jimin,” he breathed. “I need your help.”

“What's wrong?” Jimin asked quickly, concern masking his voice. 

“I'm at Yoongi’s parlor right now. Numbers has some thugs waiting outside. I need someone to take care of them.”

Taehyung heard Jimin let out a string of curses, muffled a little from where he was probably holding the receiver against his shirt. “Okay.” Jimin’s voice finally became clear. “Okay. Don't go outside, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Hurry, Jiminie,” Taehyung whispered as if the thugs outside could hear him. And maybe they could because one of them started across the street. Jimin ended the call and left Taehyung all alone to stare out the window, wondering what they were going to do. 

He knew XTC couldn't find out about this. If they knew Taehyung had caused them even more trouble, they would most likely sell him to a new Mafia. And that's the last thing he needed. But everything was okay because Jimin was coming. It was okay. It’s okay.

A hard rap on the door. 

Taehyung jumped up, turning around to come face to face with an ugly thug. There was only a sheet of glass between them, and Taehyung backed up slowly, eyeing the rest of the parlor for a plan of action.

“Kim Taehyung!” the man yelled through the door, smiling wickedly. “Open the door, bastard!”

Taehyung knew that wasn't a wise decision. He ran behind the service counter and grabbed a pair of scissors, then dashed to his piercing room. He slammed the door shut, locking it and then falling against the wall. He clutched the scissors close to his heart, worrying his bottom lip and keeping a keen ear out for any commotion.   
It was full five minutes before he heard the sound of glass shattering and boots stomping on the parlor floor. “Kim! Where the fuck are you?” he heard someone shout.   
Tae kept back a whimper, quietly standing up and standing behind the door in case one of them barged through and he could quickly stab them. Not that scissors would do much damage.

“Common, Kim,” another said in a mocking voice. “We don't wanna hurt you, we jus’ wanna talk!”

“Found you.” The voice was close- just on the other side of the door. 

A shiver ran up Taehyung’s spine. He prayed Jimin would show up kill them already. 

“Come on out of there, Kim,” a hard voice ordered. 

Silence.

“Goddamn, I have to do everything myself.” There was a loud crash against the door that made Taehyung jump with wide eyes. Another bang. The man banged on the door for what seemed like hours to Taehyung, and a boot finally flew through the door. Wood chips splintered all throughout the room as the thug kicked his way through the broken door.   
A big black figure crawled through the gaping hole, turning to Taehyung and giving a blood-freezing grin. “There you are, Kim.”

Taehyung gulped, frozen in place. 

“Scissors?” the man questioned, slowly walking towards him. Soon he was standing in front of the younger boy, chest mere inches from Taehyung’s face.   
Taehyung could have done something- dammit, he could have done something- but he was frozen to the ground like someone had superglued him to the floorboards.   
The man plucked the scissors from his hand with a smirk and threw them to the ground. He grabbed Taehyung's arm roughly and pushed him out of the room through the splintered door. 

He wanted to punch the man, he really did, but his arms were like wet noodles. He was helpless when he wasn't underground. Underground, he had the freedom to fuck someone up and make them pay- but being above ground was different. He didn't feel the surge of power or breath of adrenaline. He was useless. 

“Here we are, men,” the guy said, throwing Taehyung’s limp body to the floor in front of two other hooded men. “The powerful Kim Taehyung.” He bent down, grabbed a fistful of honey color hair and whispered in the boy’s ear. “Not so powerful, are you? I expected you to at least put up a fight. You’ve disappointed me, Kim.”

Taehyung shuddered, wrenching his face away from the man. “I don't fight weak swine.”

The man was quick to react, kicking Taehyung straight in the ribs, hard. He crumpled back to the ground, holding his side, glaring up at the man through his long lashes. 

“What was that, bastard?” he spat, eyes livid. “I don't think I heard you right. Why don't you say that again?”

“I don't repeat myself,” Taehyung growled, wheezing from the pain sparking in his ribs. 

A knee to the side of his face. Taehyung gasped, curling himself into a ball, hands flying from his ribs to his bruised cheek. 

“I wouldn't talk if I were you, bitch,” a different man laughed, pressing a foot on top his leg. 

“What the fuck?”

Everyone’s eyes jerked to the door. Yoongi stood there, eyes shooting from the men to Taehyung who was curled up on the ground. 

“Hyung,” Taehyung gasped, voice strained and hoarse. 

“Get him,” the man ordered, jutting his chin out to Yoongi. 

One of his minions stomped towards the door, and before Yoongi had time to run, they already had him pressed with his back against the wall. “Who are you?” the hooded demanded from Yoongi.

“Like I would tell you,” Yoongi shot, making the thug crush him against the wall even harder. 

“Answer me, bastard.”

Yoongi twisted out of his grip, turning and punching the guy square in the jaw. There was a loud crack that resonated throughout the silent parlor. The thug fell to the ground, but a new one easily took his place, grabbing Yoongi and holding his hands behind his back and then slamming him back against the wall, earning a groan from Yoongi. There was a kick to the back to Yoongi’s leg, making him fall to the ground with a thump.

Taehyung struggled to stand up but was then pushed back down again by a boot. He whimpered. This was all his fault. If he had just worn his damn mask.   
Taehyung watched helplessly as the thug lifted a panting Yoongi back off the ground and kicked him straight between the legs. Even Taehyung knew that was a low move. Yoongi groaned louder, doubling over. 

A shot rang out and Yoongi’s thug dropped him, stumbling backward and falling to the ground. Blood dripped out from his mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head.   
Yoongi looked frantically for where the gunshot came from. His wild eyes landed on a familiar figure in the doorway. He was clad in a black coat, a mask pulled over his face and a pistol in his outstretched leather-gloved hand. He walked into the parlor slowly, dragging the nose of his gun between the two remaining thugs. “Back away, keep your hands up,” the cold voice ordered.

Yoongi knew it was Jimin, even when the boy was trying to mask his usually sweet drawl. 

When no one moved, Jimin shouted, “Now!” Both slowly backed away slowly, keeping their hands up cautiously. Taehyung scrambled up from the floor, rushing over to Yoongi who was still slumped against the wall, stunned. 

Everyone remained silent as Jimin pulled the mask down from his mouth, showing off those plump lips. “Strip.”

That surprised all of them, especially the two thugs. 

“W-What?” one of them stuttered.

“What the fuck, man?”  
“Do it,” Jimin growled, stepping into their space and pressing the gun to one of their throats. “You can leave your underwear since I'm a nice guy.”

“I'm not-”  
Jimin jabbed the gun farther into his neck, silencing the man. “Now,” he growled in a low voice, making Yoongi even shudder. “Put your weapons on the ground. I’ll shoot it you do anything I don't like.”

The two men slowly pulled out their guns and placed them carefully on the ground. They hesitantly began to take off their coats. 

“Taehyung?” Jimin said, keeping his eyes on the thugs.

“Yeah?”

“Close the curtains. People are going to be on the streets soon.”

Taehyung nodded and scrambled off the floor to draw the black curtains closed. Yoongi watched with wide eyes as the two men stripped down to their socks and underwear.   
Jimin circled the naked men eyeing them up and down. “Any drugs on you?” he questioned, pulling out his phone.

“N-No.”

Jimin nodded, obviously satisfied with the answer as he held up his phone to get a picture of their backs. A dragon tattoo was inked on both of their shoulders. How cliche, Jimin thought. “I've been trying to find your symbol for years,” Jimin muttered. “A dragon. How dumb.” He pocketed his phone with a sigh and carded a hand through his now silver hair. “Listen, If you dispose of your friend properly, I won't kill you. Take him underground, throw him away. If I see a trace of evidence that this guy even existed, I won't be happy. I’ll expect 1,000,000 won by Friday.”

The men visibly gulped. 

“Is that clear?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Take your clothes but leave your guns.” 

The men hurried to get dressed again, nervous under Jimin’s piercing gaze. They grabbed the half-dead man on the ground and hauled him up. They were halfway out the door when Jimin rose his voice. “You don't know me, and I never saw you.”

Both the thugs nodded frantically, turning and stumbling out of the broken glass door. Jimin sighed tiredly, looking after them to make sure they didn't draw any attention. Once they ducked into a dark alley, Jimin turned away with a satisfied nod. They were too scared of XTC to try anything. 

“Jimin,” Taehyung breathed in relief, throwing himself into the silver-haired boy’s arms. 

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked quickly, pulling away to examine the boy’s body. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded, tears finally spilling from his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Jiminie.”

“It's okay.” Jimin brought him back into his arms, rubbing at his best friend’s back gently. “You’re okay now.”

Yoongi gaped. Did no one remember he was here? “What the fuck?” he settled on saying again.

Jimin and Taehyung both jumped, eyes darting to where he was still slumped against the wall. “Oh,” they said in unison. 

Jimin sighed, pulling away from his friend and pacing around the room. “Great. Fucking great.”

“I didn't mean to come here,” Taehyung whispered.

“But you did, Tae,” Jimin shot, voice rising. “You did, and now Yoongi’s going to be dragged into this mess just like you dragged me into it!”

Taehyung let out a startled cry at his words. “No, no, he doesn't have to-”

“I try so hard to protect the people I know,” Jimin continued, pacing even faster now. “And I can't. I can't. I fucking can't!”

“Jimin!” Tae shouted. “He doesn't have to join! You know that! Calm down, Yoongi will be fine.”

Jimin knew he wouldn't have to join XTC, but now Numbers knew Taehyung and Yoongi had a connection- and that would never end well.   
Jimin let out a shaky breath, turning to Yoongi. “Okay. Yoongi.” Yoongi stood up, eyeing Jimin cautiously. “I'm not going to hurt you,” Jimin said softly as if to not scare the older boy. 

“I wasn't thinking you would,” Yoongi said, but his voice betrayed him. 

“We should go somewhere…” he muttered, eyes darting from Taehyung to Yoongi. “Will you come to my apartment?”

“I don't think that would be wise,” Yoongi said quickly.

“I promise I'm not a crazy killer,” Jimin begged. “Tae will come too if that makes you feel better.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better.”

Jimin looked at Yoongi desperately. “Please. We can go to your apartment.”

“That's even worse,” Yoongi said sternly.   
“Well, what do you expect me to do?” Jimin cried desperately. “I just want to tell you the whole story. I just want to protect you.”

A long silence. 

“Let's go to that coffee shop Jungkook works at,” Yoongi suggested. “There’s usually nobody there and it opens early.”

Jimin nodded, eyeing the mess in the parlor. “Sorry about the parlor,” he voiced, kicking a shard of glass gently. “I’ll get it all cleaned up and paid for.”

“You two go,” Taehyung said, tapping away on his phone. “I’ll call Jisu and explain the situation. She’ll get the cleanup crew over here without telling XTC.”

Jimin nodded. “Good. Also, reimburse Yoongi.”

“You don't need to-” Jimin cut Yoongi off with a sharp glare.

“Let's go,” Jimin sighed, trudging out the door with Yoongi behind him.

The January air was frosty, making all of Yoongi’s breaths turn into smoke. They walked in silence for what seemed like forever. Yoongi had too much on his mind to talk, anyway. Thank God there wasn't too much damage done to the shop, just two broken doors that Jimin’s gang (was it a gang?) was going to pay for. If the parlor had been damaged any more, Yoongi would have flipped a shit. He had also just seen Jimin shoot a guy and tell two others to strip. It was… unnerving to say the least. 

“Umm,” Jimin stuttered, trying to break the awkward silence. (It was only awkward for him, Yoongi was too out of it to realize the tension.) “Are you okay?”

Yoongi thought that was a dumb question, so he just gave a bland shrug in response. “Just confused.”

“That's it?” Jimin blanched, disbelief seeping through his voice. 

Yoongi shrugged again. “I guess so. Why, what am I supposed to feel?”

“Terrified?” Jimin suggested. “Mad?”

Yoongi stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk. Was he scared of Jimin? Kind of. Well, who wouldn't be scared of a guy who just shot someone? But he was more terrified at the thought being dragged into something he would later regret. He was a little mad, too. Maybe the word mad wasn't best- irked was a better definition. He was irked that his parlor was a little messy now, and irked that he didn't know anything about the situation. He was irked that a guy had kicked him in the balls and had the nerve to throw him against the wall like a sack of potatoes. So yeah, Jimin somewhat correct.

“U-uh.” Jimin was a few feet up, just now realizing Yoongi wasn't following him anymore. “Yoongi, er, hyung- no- Yoongi-ssi? You okay?”

Yoongi shook his head and continued walking, shoving his cold hands in his sweatshirt pockets. 

They arrived at the cafe a few minutes later, Jimin holding the door for Yoongi- who didn't even acknowledge his polite service with a glance. Thankfully, Jungkook wasn't at the counter, so they each ordered a coffee- americano for Yoongi; some sweet caramel shit for Jimin- and sat down at the booth in the window. Jimin’s hands played idly with the lid of his cup in a desperate attempt to prolong the process of telling Yoongi the truth. 

Yoongi wasn't having any of it. He didn't deserve a prolonged process of the truth. “Are you going to tell me or should I leave?” he asked, voice almost as bitter as his coffee.

“Right,” Jimin breathed, finally meeting the Yoongi’s eye contact. “It's quite a long story, actually.”

“I have time.”

Jimin shivered at the hard voice but continued anyway. “This is your own choice. I didn't force you to listen to any of this, alright? I need you to understand this.”

Yoongi’s brows knitted together, but he nodded cautiously. 

“Okay.” He paused. Where was he supposed to start? There was too much to tell. He decided to just spill the whole thing. “It was my first year of college. I roomed with Taehyung, that's how we became best friends. At that time, I was paying my mother’s rent, my schooling fees, and my own rent. I worked at local shops and made a good amount of money, but just barely made enough to pay rent. Taehyung was nice and paid all of the rent some months, telling me I could pay him back. He never actually let me pay him back, though.”

Jimin smiled fondly at the memory and gave a quiet chuckle.

“It always confused me how Taehyung had enough money to pay for rent and schooling because I knew he wasn't rich, and I never saw him working. When I asked him, he told me he had a side job. I pretty much dropped it after that. One night- about halfway through the school year- Tae came home with a stab wound. It was a pretty regular occurrence for him to come home beat up- he told me it was just fighting with the bitchy seniors at parties- but this time it was just too extreme to call a drunk fight.” 

Jimin played with the hem of his coat, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Tae got stabbed, but he had done a lot worse to the other guy. It turns out he got into a brawl with a member of a gang and shot him in the head when he had stabbed Tae.”

“So is that what you are?” Yoongi questioned. “A gang?”

“No. Let me finish.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“So Taehyung told me the whole story that night. He told me he had joined the unknown mafia XTC right after high school in order to pay for his grandmother’s hospital bills. She was battling cancer at that time, and joining the mafia was the quickest way to make a ton of money.”

“You said she was battling cancer,” Yoongi said. “Is she alive?”

“...No.”

“He told me last week his was visiting Daegu to see his dying grandmother!” Yoongi protested.

“I know, let me get to that,” Jimin huffed at Yoongi’s impatience. “Anyway, it turns out Taehyung was one of the greatest fighters in the whole mafia, and his status quickly rose. There was only one catch though, the more he fought, the more he started to lose control of himself. He was earning jobs left and right, killing off people like you wouldn't believe, but he quickly started to slip. When he started fighting… he couldn't stop. It only got worse with time. So bad, in fact, that the mafia threatened to sell him to a different organization if he didn't get himself under control. So, naturally, I joined the mafia. I made a deal with XTC- I would protect Taehyung and keep him under control, and they wouldn't sell him.”

“Why would they sell him when they could just kick him out?” Yoongi asked, baffled.

“Two reasons,” Jimin explained. “One is that once you're in the mafia, they don't let you out because you know too much. You instantly become a hazard to them. Two, Taehyung is easily the best fighter in XTC, at the mafia could make a lot of money selling him.”

The information was coming in too fast for Yoongi to process it. Jimin and Taehyung worked for a mafia… what?

“Those guys you just saw were apart of a loser gang called Numbers. They pretend to be a mafia, but they’re nowhere close. They want Taehyung to hold hostage. If XTC knows their most valuable player is in someone else’s hands, they’ll pay big money to get him out.”  
Jimin paused, giving Yoongi a moment to mull over the whole thing and then continued. “About Tae’s grandmother, she died quite a long time ago, but he pretends she’s alive just for a quick excuse. It's easy to get out of school when you say a loved one is dying, and often Tae has to miss a lot of school. See, he’s only allowed to fight underground- that's another rule from XTC. He can lose control underground without causing too much damage. We send him underground when people come after him so he’ll be safe. On the streets, he’s not allowed to protect himself for fear of losing control.” 

A long silence. “I hope it makes some sense to you, Yoongi.”

It didn't make any sense to him. “I have some questions,” Yoongi said lamely.

“Go ahead,” urged Jimin softly.

“I’ll ask you once I think of one,” Yoongi muttered, scrunching his face up.

Jimin laughed quietly, nodding. “Take your time. I know this is a lot to understand.”

“So how does the mafia thing work?” he asked, finally settling on a question.

“People pay me to do the dirty business they don't want to do,” Jimin explained simply. “They pay a lot.”

“Do you like working for them?”

The question caught Jimin off guard, he really wasn't expecting something like that. “Not at all,” Jimin muttered. “I wish every day I could take it back. There’s no way to get out unless you become powerful in the underground world. That's what I'm trying to do now.”

“How?”

“Proving my status. Taking as many jobs as I can and earning as much money that’s possible. It easy, it just takes a long time.”

Yoongi’s head was swimming with all this new information. Jimin needed to slow down, needed to explain this in simpler words. Yoongi didn't know this kind of fictional stuff existed. He expected this to happen in stories, not real life. How could cute Jimin be in a mafia? 

“Does this have something to do with the tattoo you got?” Yoongi asked. He had been curious about that tattoo since Jimin had pulled out the condom wrapper from his pocket, and he wasn't about to leave this coffee shop without a solid answer. 

Jimin sunk back in the booth, carding a hand through his platinum hair. Yoongi could tell this was hard for him to talk about it. “Yeah, it does,” Jimin finally said, voice dropping lower when a customer walked through the door. He took a deep breath and continued. “A few months after I joined the mafia, I tried to leave. I couldn't handle the pressure of the police breathing down our backs all the time. My grades started to drop and I didn't get any sleep, so I tried my best to wiggle out of XTC. When they noticed my absences in the meetings, a man came after me and took me underground.”  
Jimin fidgeted nervously, willing his breaths to become a little evener. Even now, It was hard for him to talk about it. “He took me to his apartment. There was a woman there tied up to his bed. It turns out she had tried to escape a few week before I did. He tied me to his desk and forced me to look at the woman. She was so scared- shit- she was so fucking scared I could see it in her eyes.” 

Yoongi wanted to comfort Jimin so bad but he didn't know what to say, so he let the boy calm down on his own and continue after a few labored minutes. 

“The guy said he wanted to show me what would happen if I tried to leave again. He took the girl and r-raped her.” Jimin’s voice cracked.

Yoongi felt a blow to his chest. He knew what that felt like, to be used. Every fiber of his being loathed XTC, now. How could someone be so brutal to another human?

“He made me watch. I couldn't do anything. I was tied up, I couldn't…. I screamed at him the whole time, so much that I couldn't speak for a week. He wrote REMEMBER on the condom wrapper after he was finished. He shoved the wrapper in my mouth like a dog and untied me. I never tried to leave again after that.”

A terrible silence wedged itself in between Jimin and Yoongi, almost suffocating both of them. Jimin had just told him everything… but it felt good. It felt so good to get that off his chest. But now that the relief had taken its turn, it was fear that settled inside Jimin. How would Yoongi react? Would he call the police? Would he be disgusted at Jimin for working for such a dirty mafia? Would he fire Taehyung? 

Jimin’s hands were shaking at his sides.

Yoongi was also having a hard time sorting through all this new information. It still didn't seem real to him. How could all of this have been operating right under Seoul without the cops finding out? 

But Yoongi knew what his main concern was. “Are you safe?” 

Jimin’s huge eyes snapped up to meet his. “What?”

“Are you safe?” 

Jimin was surprised at the question. He didn't expect the older man to react like that. Yelling, maybe- but not questioning Jimin’s safety. He thought over his answer a long time. Was he going to lie just for Yoongi’s sake and tell him he was safe?   
“No,” he whispered honestly. “I'm not. But as long as I don't do anything wrong, I’ll be okay. That's why you can't tell anyone, especially not the police. If anyone knows I told you, they’ll definitely come after me.”

“I wasn't thinking of turning you in,” Yoongi assured quickly, frowning a little. 

“The police already know about us, but they don't know where to find us or what our name is. All they know is that a local mafia has been crushing tiny gangs recently.”

“That's….” Yoongi trailed off, glaring a hole in the table from thought. 

Jimin sought his face nervous, wondering what Yoongi would say next. “Please don't fire him, Yoongi-ssi,” he blurted.

“Huh?”

“Taehyung! It's not his fault things turned out like this. If anything, it's mine. He doesn't deserve to get fired, he just wanted a chance to live a normal life.” Jimin’s eyes were pleading- an instinct to look out for his best friend showing shining through like a lighthouse- but Yoongi had to be logical. 

“Jimin,” Yoongi sighed, “He brought three thugs into my parlor. Now they know Taehyung has a connection to me.”

Jimin shook his head, refusing to accept no for an answer. “They’re not going to mess with you anymore. They’re too scared of XTC to come back to your parlor.”

“You can't just say that,” Yoongi huffed, trying his best to keep his voice low. “You don't know what they’ll do.”

Jimin sighed, biting his lip in thought. “I’ll make sure they don't come back.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed into slits, a huge “WARNING” sign painted on his features. “Don't you dare kill them,” he said slowly.

Jimin’s eyebrows shot up. “No, no, that's not what I meant! I just meant I would threaten them a little bit more a put up a camera outside your shop so you could show the police if anything happened. If they see the camera, they usually don't have the effort to try anything.”

“Oh.” Yoongi seemed to relax a little, but he still looked pretty tense sitting in that booth, Jimin thought. “I’ll think about it.”

“You will?” Jimin squeaked hopefully.

“Yeah. I just don't want anyone to get hurt.”

Jimin gave a small victory grin. He didn't think Yoongi would be so understanding. “Thank you Yoongi-ssi.”

“For what?”

Jimin shrugged. “Being so chill, I guess. I imagined when I told you the truth, you would flip out or something. It actually scares me how little this affected you.”

“I'm still confused,” Yoongi admitted. “And a little scared for what will happen to Taehyung… and you.”

“You don't need to worry, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin assured. “We’ll be fine.”

“I should also apologize,” Yoongi muttered uncomfortably. 

“Huh?”

“For a lot of things, actually.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow at this.

“I asked Taeyang about you- the owner of Hagye. I saw you… working there one night,” Yoongi explained, causing Jimin’s face to catch fire. “I asked if you still worked there, but he said a Park Jimin never did work there. You were registered under a different name.”

“T-That,” Jimin stuttered. “Yeah. I have a separate work license under a different name that allows me to slip under the radar. I know you saw me and Taemin…”

Yoongi nodded. “I saw you threaten him.”

“One of my clients- Jackson- asked me to chase him away from Hagye because he was sexually harassing the stripers.” That did not surprise Yoongi at all. “I had to work there for a week to make sure Jackson was telling the truth.” 

I could have told you that, Yoongi thought. Something kept him from telling Jimin about his connection with Taemin, though. He still didn't know the guy that well, and still didn't completely trust him.

“Anyway, I quit after I had chased him away for good. He was a pest,” Jimin sighed. A long silence settled around them, then Jimin seemed to remember something and his head snapped back up to stare at Yoongi. “Wait- you asked about me?”

It was Yoongi’s turn to blush. Thanks to his incredibly pale skin Jimin would probably notice, too. Thank's mom. “You would do the same thing if you saw the guy you tattooed working as a stripper, threaten to kill someone, and then show up bloody at your tattoo parlor.”

Jimin giggled. “I guess I would do that, too.”

Yoongi remembered what he wanted to say and painfully dragged the conversation back to the bad decisions he wanted to apologize for. “I'm also sorry for what I said of the roof that one night at the party. I shouldn't have said I only like your body.”

“Y-You already apologized for that,” Jimin said, stuttering a little. “And it's okay. I forgive you.”

Yoongi breathed out a sigh of relief and took a long swig of his coffee. “Thanks. God knows I don't deserve it.”

Jimin hummed, glancing around the empty coffee shop. “I'm sorry for destroying your parlor. It’ll be cleaned up by tomorrow, I promise.”

“It's alright, it was only the doors. Besides, I didn't even have an appointment today,” Yoongi said, maybe even worrying a little about the lack of customer flow.

“Good,” Jimi breathed, worrying his lip there was something else on his mind.

“Hey, you okay?” Yoongi questioned after another long silence of Jimin staring into his hands. 

“Huh? Yeah,” Jimin answered quickly, jerking out of his haze and looking at the display on his phone. “I should get to class.”

“Okay.”   
It felt very wrong to end their conversation like this. Jimin had just offered him life-changing information, and now they were going to walk away because Jimin had to go to class? 

“I’ll um, I’ll stop by the parlor more often if that's alright with you?” Jimin asked nervously. “You know, If Tae keeps working there. Not that I’d stop by just to see him,” Jimin said quickly, voice turning cutely nervous. “But I thought it would be weird if I just came in uninvited without even wanting to get a tattoo. Sorry, that was weird-”

“It's okay,” Yoongi chuckled, waving him off. “You can come by whenever you want. I still need time to think about Taehyung, though.”

“Right,” Jimin sighed. “I respect your decision either way, but I really wish you would keep him around. He’s seemed so happy since he started working with you. I'm not trying to guilt you into it, or anything.”

“I know. I’ll do what I think is best.” His tone of voice left no room for persuasion or argument, Yoongi had to make this decision on his own. 

Jimin nodded, standing up and grabbing his cup from the table. “I need to go. I’ll, uh, talk to you later.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later, Jimin.” Just as the younger turned to leave, Yoongi spoke again. “And thanks for telling me. I know it wasn't easy... And I'm sorry for what has happened to you."

Jimin pretended to blow it off in an attempt to look cool and emotionless. “It's cool, you deserved to know. See you later, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Bye.” Yoongi waved his hand to wave, but the boy was already out the door and walking down the sidewalk. He sank into the seat, thumbing his coffee cup lazily. He had a lot to think about today.

~

 

Yoongi walked to the parlor an hour later. He was surprised to see Taehyung still there, ordering around two people who were cleaning glass shards off the ground. 

“Yoongi hyung!” Taehyung squeaked in terror, hiding behind one of the cleaner’s backs. “Please don't hurt me, I'm sorry for breaking your doors! I promise to pay you back! I didn't mean to-”

“Taehyung!” Yoongi said with an annoyed voice. “Shut up, will you? Let me think for a minute!”

“Sorry, hyung.”

A long silence. 

“Did Jiminie tell you everything?” he asked curiously. There was no way Taehyung could be quiet for more than five minutes.

Yoongi sighed. “Yes, he told me everything.”

Taehyung bit his lip nervously, turning his eyes toward the ground. The cleaners had also become eerily silent as they stole quick glances at Yoongi.   
“And… how do you feel about it?” Taehyung prompted slowly. 

Yoongi thought for a moment. Did he know how he felt himself? He did know what he was supposed to feel like, so he just shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno. A little confused. And a little mad at the mafia for keeping you in there and treating you like meat.”

Taehyung visibly relaxed and his face softened. “I'm really sorry, hyung,” he said sincerely. “I wish you didn't have to find out. I understand if you want me to leave the parlor.”

Yoongi’s heart ached to watch the boy being so sorry for something that wasn't even his fault. It wasn't a good idea to keep Taehyung around- Yoongi knew that. It was a dangerous idea that could get both of them hurt, but Yoongi felt himself itching to weigh out the pros and cons. There were pros if you're skeptical. Firstly, Taehyung had been raking in the business. Ever since he started piercing, business had been speeding up dramatically, and his clients often came back the next week for a tattoo. Second, the boy was only trying to have a go at normal college life. He needed to support himself, and Yoongi felt terrible for even thinking about firing him. Lastly, Jimin assured Yoongi they would be safe if he set up cameras and threatened those thugs a little more. And he trusted the silver-haired boy, now. 

“I’ll call you when I figure out what to do,” Yoongi decided to say. He wasn't going to give the kid a definite ‘yes’, but he sure as hell wasn't going to crush his spirits, either. 

Taehyung’s happy look faltered a moment, but his boxy grin was back within seconds. “Thank you for giving me a chance. I’ll accept any decision you make.” The kid glanced around the parlor. “And the parlor will be fixed by tomorrow morning, I promise. I already called my customers to let them know the shop would be closed for repairs.”

Yoongi nodded. “Okay. I'm going to go home.”

“Please don't tell your roommate what happened,” Taehyung pleaded, puppy eyes turned to Yoongi. 

“I won't,” he assured with a little chuckle. “I’ll make up some badass story about falling through both doors.”

Taehyung giggled. “Okay, hyung. I'm really sorry, again.”

“It's okay, Taehyung. None of this is your fault.” The boy relaxed even more at these words. “Don't you have class?”

“Yeah. I’ll get going. These guys will fix everything up, don't worry about them,” he said, gesturing to the cleaners.

One of them looked up and gave a small wave. The other just nodded in Yoongi direction. They looked… okay, Yoongi thought. Nothing suspicious, really, except for the fact they worked in a mafia. “Okay,” Yoongi muttered warily. “I'm going to get going. I’ll talk to you later, Taehyung. Don't stress too much, okay?”

Taehyung nodded quickly, but he still looked pretty tense. “Have a good day, Yoongi hyung. Sorry again.”

Yoongi waved him off and thanked the cleaners before leaving. He trudged down the steps to the subway station again, a little confused and a little numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLOW BURN.
> 
> Thank you for reading -///- it means so much to me!
> 
> Hope your week is going well! See you next Saturday (Or Friday if I'm lucky smh)


	8. Weed and Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOOONMMIIINNN FINALLYYYYYYYYYY
> 
> Hope you enjoy the long chapter <3

Namjoon was off work Monday, and when he asked why Yoongi came home only two hours after he left, Yoongi told him the shop was broken into by a robber. He said he got there right as the police had caught the guy. Namjoon was all wide-eyed and surprised gasps, but he took the bait and that's all Yoongi needed.

“See, that's what happens when you have a parlor in the shadiest part of Seoul!” Namjoon huffed from the counter where he was shoving cereal in his mouth, entertained by Yoongi’s (fake) story. “You get robbed!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, feeling a little guilty for lying to his friends. It wasn't his choice, he had promised Jimin he would keep this information secret. “It was just a fluke, Namjoon,” Yoongi decided to say. “The police assured me I would be safe.”

“They can't just tell you that,” he insisted, pointing his spoon at Yoongi. “They dunno what’s gonna happen. You could get robbed again!”  
“I'm not going to get robbed again, shut up and eat your breakfast.” Yoongi turned on his heel and shuffled sleepily to his bedroom where he plopped down on his fluffy bed with a “Whumph”. He felt so numb, almost as if he had been smoking weed all night. He decided that might not even be a bad idea; he had too much whizzing through his mind at 100 mph, maybe it was time to slow those thoughts down and find some time to breathe. 

Finding out about Jimin left him a little emptier than he thought it would leave him. Now he felt he knew too much. It also made him immensely sad, leaning all that Jimin had been through. He had obviously been through hell, and all Yoongi could say was, “Thanks for telling me”? He felt like garbage. He could have offered a bunch of comforting words upon hearing the truth, maybe whisper sweet nothings in his ear to calm the younger down. The problem remained, though- Yoongi still didn't know Jimin. Yeah, he heard Jimin’s story- or more like the story of XTC- but he didn't know the boy enough to hug him and offer him sweet words of comfort, telling Jimin he was so fucking strong for going through shit and standing by his best friend even when he was a little messed up. He had wanted to do these things- to comfort the younger after he had spilled his story- but it would have definitely been overstepping boundaries. Yoongi himself wasn't too good at conveying emotions, he would have probably screwed up anyway if he tried to tell Jimin he was amazing. 

Yoongi ditched the idea of weed and instead rustled around in his desk drawer for the pack of cigarettes he kept for special occasions. He opened his window and hoped Namjoon couldn't smell his mistakes seeping through the walls.

 

~

Tuesday

Jimin could barely keep his eyes open throughout the lecture. Mr. Lee had a tendency to stutter when he got excited about a certain topic, and preaching about the mitochondria to a hall of half-asleep college students gave him a biology boner, so Jimin had a hard time keeping up with his notes. He gave up halfway through and retired to the margins of his paper where he doodled little flowers. 

Truthfully, a major in visual arts and a minor in biology wasn't a common thing, and Jimin knew that. He had only chosen a minor in biology to please his dead father, his real passion was art. He worked wonders with watercolor, and just like Lee- painting gave him a metaphorical boner. He didn't want to be sitting in a lecture about biology, he wanted to be creating art. 

He couldn't, though, because his day was packed. After Biology he had to go to an art history class, and then he had to meet Jungkook and Hoseok at the studio to go over the routine for the 500th time in preparation for the competition on Friday, and then he had to attend an excruciating long XTC meeting in Gangnam. He had to grin and bear it, because the more meetings he attended, the higher he would climb on the social ladder, and the sooner he could escape. He had been doing the same thing for the three years. He was actually quite nervous for today’s meeting, he had never been to one like this before. Only nobles could attend this meeting, and even the head of XTC was coming. Thanks to Jimin’s extensive efforts as a sniper, he was finally allowed into this meeting as a noble. He would be meeting not only the boss of XTC, but the leaders of prostitute rings, drug organizations, and everything in between. To say he was scared was a fucking understatement.

After Mr. Lee had dismissed them, Jimin trudged to the art building and went to his art history class. He sat at a table next to an odd boy named Yuta, but he had grown accustomed to the boy’s presence over the year. 

“Good morning, Jimin,” Yuta greeted with a grin and wave.

“Morning,” he yawned, dropping his backpack on the table and flopping down into the seat. 

Yuta chuckled at his friend’s tired state and pushed his coffee cup over to him. “Coffee? It looks like you need it.”

“Yes,” Jimin agreed frantically, grabby hands snatching the cup. He took a giant gulp and let out a sound of happiness. “Bless you, Yuta.”

“Just helping a fellow college student out,” he shrugged, a smile stretched across his lips. “Are you okay? You look more tired than usual.”

Jimin shrugged the boy off. “I haven't been sleeping well, is all.” It was more than that, truthfully. He hadn't kept his mind off of Yoongi since he told the older his darkest secret. For some reason, he felt Yoongi had blown him off, almost like he heard about XTC every day. Jimin wasn't worried that Yoongi would turn him in, but he didn't expect him to be so chill about the whole thing. Jimin just guessed that was Yoongi’s personality- he was just a calm kind of guy. You couldn't really tell how Yoongi was feeling by just looking at him. Jimin just expected a different reaction. 

Art history was hell to sit through, but eventually, it was over and Jimin had to literally dash out of the building and to the studio if he wanted to make it to practice on time. Thanks to Yuta’s coffee, he was feeling a little more energized and flew through the studio doors right as the clock ticked to 1:00 pm. 

“Jiminie!” Hoseok was the first to greet him, giving him a slap on the back that bordered on too hard. 

“Hi, hyung, Jungkook.”

“Hey,” Jungkook waved from where he was sitting next to the speakers, fiddling with the aux cord to hook his phone up. “Ready to go?”

“Let me get changed first.” Jimin headed to the locker room where he peeled off his slightly sweaty clothes and pulled on a loose white t-shirt and a pair of stretchy black jeans. He slipped into his sneakers and stuffed his bag in his locker, jogging out of the locker room to start practice. 

Jimin had joined the dance team for fun, but soon discovered he was pretty good at moving his body, and Hoseok insisted he would participate in the competition. He had agreed willingly, he loved performing and he loved dancing, and he especially loved art- all forms. They were practicing a routine to a two-song mashup- Coco and Take You Down. Jimin thought they were both sexy in their own way (Take You Down more so) and the dance itself was also very… suggestive. It left a lot to the mind.  
When they were in place, Jungkook hit play and the music started quickly, Jimin moving his body in time with the other two, popping and locking his arms, trying to keep up with Hoseok’s expert moves. 

~

After dance practice, Jimin had to run home and take a quick shower before he left for the meeting. He slipped into a fitted suit, and his general demeanor took a 180 turn. Outside of the suit, he was Jimin- a sleepy college student who loved to paint and dance, but when he tugged the cuffs of his grey suit over his wrists he turned into Park Jimin- an XTC noble, the greatest sniper in Seoul. The man climbing the ladder to the top. The man people respected; the man people feared. 

He slicked his silver hair back and pulled on a pair of black leather gloves, a sign of power in XTC. He only spared his latest painting a glance as he grabbed his keys and slammed the door to his penthouse apartment. A cab was waiting to whisk him away to Gangnam, and he climbed it and told the driver the address. The meeting wasn't being held underground- no, the underground was much too dirty for these nobles. The people attending these meeting were important. These were the people the police had been tracking for years, yet couldn't jail a single one because they were just too goddamn smart. They knew how to work around the system, how to use code words that wouldn't come back to bite them in the likely case that the cops were collecting their emails like baseball cards. 

The cab dropped him off at the ASEM Tower in Samseong-dong, Gangnam. It was a huge expanse of concrete and glass that seemed to touch the sky. The setting sun played off the windows, casting a warm glow onto the sidewalk under him. Jimin gulped. He was really doing this. 

He tugged nervously on his leather gloves and marched into the gigantic structure, pushing through the revolving glass doors and into the busy lobby. He walked up to the information desk, almost tripping over his own shoes, and a woman greeted him with a warm smile.

“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked in a perky voice.

“Um, where is meeting room…” Jimin glanced down at his wrist as he tugged his leather glove down, right where he had scribbled the meeting location in sharpie. “17a?”

“Go right through security over there-” she pointed across the lobby to the security team by the elevators- “And then take the lift to level five. The meeting room will be just to your right.”

“Thank you,” Jimin said, offering a slight bow as he started off to the security stop. He was ordered to take off his shoes and dump all the contents of his pockets into a cardboard container which was slid onto the conveyor belt and through the detector. A pudgy man instructed him to lift his arms as he felt around for any weapons. After a few awkward moments of pat-down, the officer finally deemed him safe and let him pass through to collect his things on the other side of the detector. Jimin slid his shoes back on and grabbed his keys and phone from the box, then walked to catch the elevator. He pressed the button that took him to level five, and he calculated he had about thirty seconds to collect himself before he was thrown into this meeting. 

He was almost annoyed at himself for being so nervous. He was a sniper, for heaven's sake, and he couldn't even attend a simple meeting? Maybe it was just the aspect of seeing the people behind the organization that scared him. He had only heard rumors of these elites from the other low-class XTC workers. These people were so damn smart, Jimin was going to look like a kindergartener next to them. But then again, he wouldn't have been accepted to attend a meeting like this unless he held some power, so that was slightly reassuring. 

Jimin got off on level five and turned to his right like the woman had instructed him to. He quickly found the right meeting room and hesitated before knocking on the door. Was he supposed to knock, or was he just supposed to just walk inside? Did he have to say a code word or something? He braced himself and knocked anyway.

“Enter,” a voice allowed.  
J  
imin tentatively touched the golden knob and pushed the door open. He was met with the sight of a long oak table, chairs lining each side. The shades of the windows were closed so the smart-board displayed on the wall could be seen. Next to the table tucked in a pop out was two rows of chairs. There were only two men in the room at that time, both sitting in the pop out. There was an older man in a suit standing next to the door, presumably the one who told Jimin to enter.  
“Good evening,” the man greeted with a low bow. “Name?”

“P-Park Jimin,” he stuttered, cursing his nerves. 

“Ah,” the man nodded, motioning him to the two rows tucked in the corner. “You may sit in the back row, sir.”

Jimin nodded and quickly bowed before sliding into the back row. He glanced at the clock nervously- he was fifteen minutes early. 

“You’re Park Jimin?” one of the men asked in disbelief as Jimin settled in the chair next to him.

“Uhh… Yeah?” he confirmed, wondering why this guy was so surprised.

“Dude, you’re like, Seoul’s greatest sharpshooter.” If it wasn't for his completely honest expression, Jimin would have thought the man was mocking him. He was even more surprised when the guy stuck his hand out. “Kang Dabin, Moll dealer.”

Ah, Jimin thought. He sold prostitutes. That made Jimin feel a little sour, but he kept a polite smile all the same. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

The second man, who had remained silent the entire time, turned to greet Jimin from where he was seated in the front row. He had a pudgy face and greying hair, eyes seemingly enlarged from his gold-rimmed glasses. Jimin noticed a few teeth missing when the older smiled. “I've heard a lot about you, kid,” he said, voice not exactly warm. 

“O-Oh, really?” Jimin giggled nervously, scratching the back of his head; a nervous tick. “Hopefully nothing too bad-”

“Not at all,” the older assured, which made Jimin relax with an exhale. “I've sold your boss weapons in the past, and he said most of them went to you.”

“Oh, Nam Chul?” He was sure the man was talking about Nam, the head director of the defensive sector- Jimin’s sector. He had always gotten along with Nam, the man was always encouraging him and offering compliments to lift his spirits after a hard job. He got all of his weapons from Nam, he was always given the best of the best- Jimin guessed he had this man to thank. “Are you his arms dealer?”

“Yes,” the man nodded. “Nam and I have been friends for quite a long time. He trusts you a lot, you know. You’re his most reliable shooter. I heard you do much more than that, too?”

“Um, yes. Sometimes. I don't really like working as a sniper as much as some think, and I tend just to take jobs where I don't have to kill anyone. Often that means collecting transactions or picking up information from a client.”

“Ah,” the old man muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I'm glad you’re moving up, many nobles abuse their power an end up dead. I know you won't be like that.”

Jimin knew that was a threat. “Of course, Sunbae.” The man turned back around with a smirk, and Jimin felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Have you ever met Mr Kim?” Dabin asked. 

Jimin shook his head. “Never. I'm really nervous, though.”

“You should be,” he said. 

Great, Jimin thought. Just what he needed. 

“He doesn't take shit from anybody,” Dabin continued. “And I heard he’s running a pornography production studio in his own home.”

Jimin gulped. That was a very risky move. That was very illegal. Well, everything happening in XTC was illegal to a certain extent, but that could get him imprisoned for a very long time. 

As if on cue, Mr Kim walked through the door. The first thing Jimin saw was his broad shoulders jetting out from his suit. He was tall, as well, and his old face was a roadmap of wrinkles and lines. His lips were set in a hard line, and his eyes were cold and uninviting. Jimin couldn't help but feel like he knew someone that looked similar.  
Mr Kim only glanced in their direction, giving a stiff nod before stomping to the head of the table and laying his briefcase down on the shiny oak table. Jimin was ridged in his seat, and Dabin didn't look any better- a little paler, in fact. 

Soon the meeting room was filling up, and people silently took their seats at the table or in the extra rows of chairs in the pop out. Many of the attendees sitting at the table were older looking men with black briefcases or manilla folders which most likely contained enough dirt for the police to shut the whole organization down. 

Right as the clock struck 6:00 pm, Mr Kim cleared his throat, although the effort was left in vain because nobody was talking in the first place. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted, voice hard and cool. Jimin’s mouth went dry and he tried not to squirm in his seat. “Thank you for meeting me tonight. I have the head of each sector here to report. I don't want any bullshit fluff, cut straight to the point. I want numbers and facts, cut all the other shit out.”

When nobody challenged him in this order, Kim nodded and spread a hand out to the chair directly to his right. The man stood up, clearing his throat and looking down at the papers spread in front of himself on the table. “Thank you, Mr Kim. Min Hyuk, head Pusher in Itaewon, Seoul.” The man pointed to the projected statistics on the smartboard and began his report, notifying Mr Kim that cocaine prices in Itaewon had been steadily rising. After the police busted a whole drug organization last month, there was a decrease in smuggled goods coming in, and cocaine was becoming scarce thanks to the lack of mules coming into the county. More smugglers were going out to Taiwan than staying in Korea, and cocaine prices shot up. 

Mr Kim nodded along, humming in approval when Hyuk told him XTC had raked in over $300,000 American dollars after their last Valium transaction with a drug organization in California. After fifteen more minutes of talking about stocks and expected rates in the future, Hyuk sat down after giving Mr Kim a 90-degree bow, nose practically touching the table. 

“Good,” Kim said, clapping deliberately slow in a drawn-out manner “Make sure that busted organization stays closed, ensuring us a steady rise in income. I want you to keep smugglers from entering the country. If we keep the cocaine out as long as we can, it’ll start to grow in demand.”

“Yes sir. I’ll see right to it.”

“Good.” Kim motioned to the next person. “Sung? You may go next.”

Sung nodded, standing up and folding his wrinkled hands in front of his belly. “Sung Jaewon, lead organ trafficker in Seoul and Busan.”

Jimin cringed. He hated this topic. Organ trafficking was a relatively new business in XTC, it had just been introduced last year, but the organization was actually making a good amount of money every month thanks to the selling of body parts. He hated the idea that XTC was selling someone else's body parts, Jimin thought it came pretty close to human trafficking on the fucked up scale. Most of the time Jimin tried to pretend this sector of XTC didn't exist, but now the topic was unavoidable. He was going to have to hear about this.

Two hours later, after they discussed everything terrible- pornography production, human trafficking, club ownerships, prostitute rings, and the drug lords of Korea- the meeting finally came to a close. Jimin was glad because his mouth was as dry as sandpaper and during the meeting his phone had vibrated two different times in his pocket, notifying him someone was trying to call him. Jimin was just relieved his phone was on vibrate instead of ringer, who knows what would've happened if Mr Kim was interrupted in his own meeting by a newbie’s phone. 

He shivered at the thought and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. Everyone was filing out of the room, volume becoming louder since they felt they were safe from Kim’s wrath. Jimin wasn't about to take any chances, though, and kept his mouth shut as he walked out of the meeting room, carefully avoiding eye contact with Mr Kim.  
Just as he was climbing into the elevator and pressed the button to take him to the lobby, Dabin slid in between the closing metal doors. He leaned up against the reflective wall with a sigh as the elevator shot downwards. “That meeting was a bitch, huh?”

Jimin shrugged. “Yeah. I didn't know XTC was so… big. And illegal. I hadn't heard much about the pornography industry except for the few rumors.”

“It's becoming bigger,” Dabin nodded. “People are paying more money for high-quality porn, that's for sure.”

“It makes me sick,” Jimin muttered.

Dabin took his time responding. “Me as well.”

Jimin thought that was a little contradicting, considering he was a Moll dealer himself, but he didn't question the man’s motives. He himself was trapped in a place he didn't want to be, maybe the man was here under similar circumstances. The first thing he learned when he joined XTC was not to assume things too quickly. 

The elevator jolted to a stop and the doors opened with a soft ding. Jimin bode Dabin a good night and walked away into the lobby and straight out the revolving doors. The cool air was a wake-up call, and he started feeling a little better. He had to remind himself that the pain XTC had inflicted on other people was not his fault, it was Mr Kim’s fault. He just got caught up in the crossfire, is all. 

But really? He may not be working in prostitute rings or porn production, but was he really any better than the ones that did? He shoots people for a living. Sure, the people he shoots are generally bad people that the world wouldn't miss, but did that make it right?  
J  
imin shook off the thoughts and pulled his phone out from his pocket. Two missed calls from Tae. He almost groaned. What if Tae had been in trouble? Jimin clicked the button to call him back right away, bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously as he waited for his best friend to pick up the phone. 

“Jiminie?” Tae answered.

Jimin instantly relaxed. He sounded okay; everything is okay. “Hey, I just got your calls, is something wrong?”

“No, I just had some good news.” Jimin could hear his smile from the other end. 

“Oh really? What is it, TaeTae?”

“Yoongi hyung called me and told me I could stay and work in the parlor!”

Jimin breathed out in relief. He was worried Yoongi would fire him, all for good reasons, of course. It was a bit of a risk keeping Taehyung at the parlor, but Jimin felt like screaming in relief at Yoongi’s decision. Tae deserved a chance at a normal life, and Yoongi must have realized that and taken pity on the boy. “Really, Tae? That's awesome!”

“I know, right? Hyung is so nice.” Tae giggled. “He acts like he doesn't care about people sometimes, but he really is the sweetest person on earth. Besides you, of course, Jiminie.”

Jimin chuckled, but it pained him a little thinking about Yoongi. He really was kind and really scarily chill about both he and Tae working in a mafia. He knew he wanted to see Yoongi again, even if it was just to say thank you. “When do you go back to work?” Jimin asked, beginning the walk to the subway entrance. 

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he replied. “Why, wanna come?”

“If it wouldn't mess with business,” Jimin admitted shyly. 

“Of course not, Jiminie!” Tae assured. 

“I’ll stop by after dance practice tomorrow,” he promised, grinning into his phone like an idiot. 

“Daebak!” he shouted, but Jimin had a feeling Taehyung wasn't talking about him anymore because he could hear the loud noise of the TV in the background and a game control being pressed right in his ear. 

“See you tomorrow, Tae,” Jimin chuckled. 

“-Bye Jiminie!”

Jimin ended the call with a satisfied huff. He decided to take the subway across the town and get some dinner. He stopped at a kimchi place and ate all alone. He thought about XTC and he thought about Yoongi, and then he thought about how thankful he was to the older man for giving Taehyung a second chance. 

 

~

Wednesday

Yoongi had made the hard decision of calling Taehyung Tuesday afternoon. He decided to just man up and let the kid stay. After all, Taehyung was raking in the money and was also pleasant to have around the parlor, even when he was being an annoying brat. That and Yoongi thought he deserved to live a normal life. It wasn't fair the kid had been sucked into XTC, he was only trying to pay for his grandmother’s treatment, and Yoongi wasn't going to punish him for that.

Tae was ecstatic when Yoongi told him he could stay, and promised to come into work the next afternoon after class with a red bean pastry just for Yoongi. He never declined free food, so when Tae burst through the brand new door, Yoongi took the bun and nibbled on it as he watched Taehyung jumping around the studio like he had never been inside before. 

Yoongi had a client in fifteen minutes, so he worked on preparing his station after he finished eating, and listened to Taehyung’s constant blabbering. 

“Hyung, thank you so much for letting me stay!” he shouted for the seventh time. 

“No problem,” Yoongi mumbled, filling up the ink caps carefully. His customer had the fairly simple idea of a geometric sleeve, and Yoongi was quite excited to get started. 

“Honestly, I don't know what I would have done if you fired me,” he admitted. “And, are you really okay with me being in a mafia?”

Thankfully there were no customers to overhear this conversation. “I'm not okay with it, exactly,” Yoongi said truthfully. “It's a little scary, but I know you don't have a choice.”

“Thanks for understanding, hyungie,” he thanked again, surprising Yoongi and pulling him into a back hug. Yoongi stiffened at the contact- not much- but enough that Taehyung could feel it. He pulled away quickly, a boxy grin taking over his face in embarrassment. “I forgot you don't like humans touching you, grumpy old man.”

“Go away,” Yoongi smirked, pushing him away from the station. “I just sterilized, don't touch the chair!”

“Okay, okay, okay! By the way, Jimin is coming in later tonight.”

“What?” Yoongi coughed.

“Jimin wanted to come by and say hi. I told him yes… I hope that was okay.” 

“Yeah… yeah, it's fine. He can stop by anytime.” Yoongi did tell Jimin before that he could come by the shop anytime… but he wasn't at all prepared to see the silver-haired boy. Silver hair! The cotton candy pink hair had been replaced with platinum gray hues, and Yoongi thought it made him look a lot older and -objectively- sexier. Seeing Jimin bust through the door with a gun and a mask pulled over his nose made Yoongi feel a lot of things. Not only did it make him feel a little shaky and so scared he almost pissed his pants, but it also turned him on a little. As weird and creepy that sounded to Yoongi, the sight of the younger looking so confident and sure of himself it was hard not to feel certain things. And that grey hair holy-

“Good afternoon!” 

That jerked Yoongi out of his stupor and he turned to see who Taehyung had greeted. It was his customer, albeit a little early, but he wasn't complaining. “Are you Mina?”

The girl nodded her hair, dark long braids swinging on either side of her face. Yoongi nodded and walked behind the desk, ruffling through papers before handing her a clipboard and paperwork. He instructed her to fill the papers out, so she sat on the couch and started to write. After ten minutes of filling in boxes and writing signatures, Yoongi took her back to his station and showed her the stencil. She was getting a geometric sleeve. It was going to take a while, and they had decided beforehand to split the inking up into three sessions. Today Yoongi was only going to work on as much outlining as she could handle before she tapped out. 

“I really like it,” she said, taking the paper from Yoongi’s hand and eyeing it closely. “Honestly, there’s nothing I would change.”

Yoongi hummed, bobbing his head. “That's good to hear. Wanna get started?”

She grinned up at him. Her eyes held a sense of naive innocence Yoongi wished he still possessed. “Yeah, let's do it.”

So Yoongi prepped her arm and shaved the area where the tattoo would be, then pressed the transfer paper in place and made sure the purple ink had stuck to her olive skin before pulling it away gently. She admired it in the mirror, whistling loudly. “Looks badass,” she remarked, a huge smile spreading across her face. “I love it.”

“Nobody’s gonna mess with you after you get that beauty on your skin,” Taehyung called from the counter, sending the girl a wink.

Yoongi positioned the girl in the chair, propping her arm up on the separate ledge for easy access. He prepared his machine and flicked the button on so an electric buzzing filled the parlor. He dipped the tip into a black ink cap and turned on his swivel chair to start inking the small outline. She flinched as the needle dug into her skin.

“First tattoo?” Yoongi asked, wiping away some blood and excess ink. 

“Y-Yeah,” she nodded, hissing a little as Yoongi lowered the machine again. 

“Give it five minutes, you’ll get used to the pain. It’ll turn into a message of sorts,” Yoongi suggested, tongue sneaking out of his mouth as he focused hard on the ink. “Why did you want to go so big for your first tattoo, anyway?”

“I want to piss off my parents.”

Taehyung barked out a laugh and slapped his palm on the counter.

“Really?” Yoongi quirked a brow, pulling back to smirk a little. 

“Yep.” She didn't even look embarrassed.

“Alright then.” Yoongi lowered the machine back to her skin. 

“I don't wanna sound like a brat,” she shrugged, “But yeah, I really want to get back at my parents.”

“Been there,” Yoongi muttered, causing the girl to giggle softly. They carried light conversation as he continued to ink, and occasionally Taehyung would hop over and tell them his opinion on something, but then a man walked through the door and announced he wanted a Prince Albert, so Taehyung hopped back over to the counter and handed him a thick stack of paperwork. Yoongi didn't know if this would be Taehyung’s first dick piercing, but he hoped not because the last thing he needed was for someone to lose their dick in his shop.

Two hours later- after Tae had finished up with his customer (no hitches, apparently)- the girl couldn't stand the pain anymore, so Yoongi pulled the machine back and wiped down the bleeding area. He had almost finished the outlining, and so they arranged another appointment four weeks later to finish up the thin lining and start the filling and shadows. Yoongi wrapped up her arm and instructed her how to care for it. She nodded along attentively, and thanked him many times for doing such a good job.

“Make sure you wear long sleeves,” Yoongi said, smiling. “Only show your parents the final product.”She grinned. Mina left a few minutes later after Yoongi was sure she understood how to care for the new ink.

He and Taehyung both breathed out a sigh of relief as the parlor became quiet again. “Was that your first dick piercing?” Yoongi questioned, a playful yet tired smile playing on his lips. His eyes burned from looking at the design for too long, and he felt almost as if he just woke up from a nap. Sleepy yet satisfied. 

“Nah,” Taehyung chuckled, playing with his nose ring absently. “I've done tons. It was popular in high school, believe it or not.”

Yoongi hummed, grabbing a coke from the red mini fridge and throwing himself on the leather couch. He popped the can open and took a well-deserved gulp. God knows he needed a little caffeine. 

“I wanna give you a gift,” Taehyung suddenly said.

“Yeah?”

The younger nodded. “A thank you gift, of sorts.”

“I hope it's a car because I really need one of those,” Yoongi joked.

“I was thinking more of a piercing,” Taehyung said sheepishly.

“Huh?” Yoongi asked in disbelief. 

“Yeah, you would look really hot with one!” he insisted.

“I dunno…” Yoongi thought. 

“Will you at least think about it?”

“I’ll think about it,” Yoongi promised, lolling his head to the side to look at Tae’s hopeful puppy face.

“I'm holding it you, hyung,” Taehyung laughed. 

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and Yoongi almost fell off the couch in surprise. Who was knocking on the door? The open sign was turned on, after all. “Jiminie!” Taehyung squealed, running to open the door. 

Yoongi had to suppress a groan. Was he really ready to face his feelings right now? 

Jimin was dragged into the shop by a very excited Tae, who was hugging the life out of him. “Hey, TaeTae,” Jimin giggled, hugging him back. “How’s it going?”

“Awesome. Hyung was just talking about what piercing he was going to get.”

“I wasn't,” Yoongi sighed, sitting up on the couch. 

“O-Oh, hey, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin stuttered, beautiful big eyes widening a little larger. 

“Hyung,” Yoongi said.

“What?”

“You can call me hyung,” Yoongi clarified, trying his best to stop the wildfire spreading across his cheeks. “I feel like we’ve moved past the honorifics since I, you know, know you’re in a mafia.”

Jimin chuckled sheepishly. “I guess you’re right, hyung.”

Oh yes, Yoongi definitely liked the sound of that on Jimin’s tongue.

“About that,” Jimin sighed, carding a hand through his silver hair. “I had someone set up cameras this morning.”

“Really?”  
“Yeah, you guys should be fine. I also contacted those two thugs, and I can assure you they aren't telling their gang any information about what happened.”

“Good,” Taehyung said, giving his friend a thumbs up. “We don't need that mess again.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi said seriously. 

“No problem,” Jimin waved him off cooly. 

An odd silence settled over the shop, one bordering on uncomfortable before Taehyung blurted, “Yoongi, are you a thug?”

“Why would you think that?” Yoongi deadpanned.

“You just seem really chill with this whole thing,” he wondered. “I don't really understand why, though.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Dunno.”

Jimin wanted to claim that “Dunno” didn't suffice as an answer, but kept his mouth shut. Maybe Yoongi really didn't know.

 

~

Friday

“Common, Yoongi! We’re gonna be late! Jin’s coming to pick us up in five minutes!”

“Shut up!” Yoongi yelled from his room. “I'm trying my best!” He was gnawing on his lower lip, staring at his closet. He had been looking for 15 minutes, and he still couldn't find his suit. He swore he owned one, it just wasn't here. Yoongi had been to one of Hoseok’s competitions before, and he knew people dressed up for these events, but he didn't have any nice clothes and was going to stick out like a sore thumb. 

“What are you doing?” Namjoon knocked on the door. “Common.”

Yoongi marched over and threw open the door. “I can't find any nice clothes, goddamnit.” 

Namjoon only started at him with a bored expression, and then shifted his eyes to glance at the pile of clothes on Yoongi’s floor. “Your suit is in my closet.”

“What the hell!” Yoongi screeched, flying out of his room and into Namjoon’s. The younger man’s closet looked like a garbage disposal, but after a few stressful minutes of searching, Yoongi found his black suit and snatched it off the hanger. He stripped down to his underwear and threw the new clothes on, stumbling out of Namjoon’s room and pocketing his phone and wallet. 

“We’re not going to a funeral,” Namjoon remarked, eyeing his outfit. His turtleneck shirt was black- as well as his pants and suit jacket- but right now he didn't have time to grab a white button down, and Namjoon was going to have to get over it. 

“You were the one telling me to hurry up,” Yoongi huffed. 

A knock on the door told then Jin was here to pick them up, so the two left the apartment, still arguing as they trudged down the stairs, Jin only rolling his eyes at the usual antics. “You look nice, Yoongi,” the oldest commented as he climbed into the passenger seat of Jin’s Mercedes. The man was very well endowed, thanks to his father’s company. 

“Thanks,” Yoongi muttered, flipping on the seat warmer. 

Namjoon protested as he climbed into the back seat. “I'm your boyfriend, Jin hyung,” he whined. “Stop complimenting Yoongi. And why do I have to sit in the back?”

“You look like a whole snack,” Jin said dryly, sticking his keys in the ignition. Yoongi gagged a little. “And you’re sitting in the back because you’re the youngest. Brat.”

“Hey!” Namjoon huffed, mock offended. 

They arrived at the theater twenty minutes later, still bickering, but also jittery to see Hoseok in action. They all loved watching him dance- he was amazing, who wouldn't love watching his body move? The theater was giant. A red carpet lined the floors, and the walls were painted a shiny gold color. Looking up at the high ceilings, Yoongi could see golden flowers and designs curling together. The three men took their seats (Hoseok had reserved a section in the third row for them) and anxiously whispered about the performance.

“They’re gonna win for sure,” Namjoon said.

“Of course they are,” Yoongi agreed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Do you know who’s in his group?” Jin asked.

“Jungkook. I don't know who else,” Yoongi commented. 

“Jimin,” Namjoon added.

Yoongi couldn't help the lightning bolt that shot up his spine at the boy’s name. “Huh?”

“Yeah. I thought you knew, hyung,” Namjoon said, quirking a brow. “It's just the three of them.”

“Shit.”

“Why shit?” Jin asked suggestively, poking him in the ribs.”

Yoongi ignored the question and opted for staring at the stage. Jimin was here. He was going to be performing right in front of his eyes. Yoongi hoped it just wasn't like the dance he performed at the strip club. If Jimin came out in fishnets again, Yoongi didn't know what he was going to do. Maybe he would have to run to the bathroom to puke or jerk off. Neither was necessarily appealing. 

Soon enough, the lights dimmed and a woman in a sleek red dress came onto the stage to welcome all of them. The first performances were solo acts, each different and unique in their own way. There were lyrical dances, hip-hop performances, and genres Yoongi couldn't even classify. As they entered the second half, the group performances started. The first was a group of girls dancing a ballet on their tiptoes (Yoongi thought it looked painful) and the second group performed a tap routine. To Yoongi, it just sounded like the patter of rain- nothing award-worthy. 

Finally, Hoseok’s group walked out on stage, looking confident yet humble at the same time. All three were dressed fairly simple- black jogger sweatpants, loose yellow t-shirts, and checkered Vans. Jimin’s platinum hair shone in the stage lighting, and Hoseok was wearing a calm yet slightly sarcastic grin. They seemed unaffected by the size of the crowd like they were blocking out everyone’s cheers and focusing solely on themselves and their own bodies. It didn't even seem like they were aware of each other's presence on the stage. 

The song started, and Yoongi recognized it immediately. It was “CoCo” by O.T. Genasis- the song that literally only talked about cocaine. Thank god none of the people here could speak English, Yoongi thought smugly. 

The three dancers started with jerky motions, moving their feet quickly in time with the heavy rap. They all stayed in time with each other, merely becoming robots with the same program, dancing across the stage with an air of absolute control and power. Yoongi found Jimin had the same personality while dancing as he did holding a gun. As weird of a thought it was, Jimin looked calm and collected, yet radiated beams of dominant control. His glare alone sent shivers down Yoongi’s neck. 

The song suddenly changed to a much slower and sexy tune. Yoongi recognized this one as well. “Take You Down” by Chris Brown. The lights dimmed for a few seconds until only Jimin could be seen standing in the middle of the stage, bathed in now blue light. He danced erotically, staying his hips and seemingly floating across the stage, spotlight chasing him like a bird. 

Yoongi was mesmerised, mouth going dry as he rested his eyes on Jimin’s soft figure moving perfectly to the music. It's almost as if the song was made for him. Jungkook and Hoseok joined Jimin back on the stage. The crowd gasped loudly when all three jumped into the air in unison and landed on their palms, grinding down on the ground. This sexual move in particular sent half the crowd into wild cheers and the other half into scandalized gasps. Yoongi was silent. 

The dancers were on their knees now, sliding forward on the stage, thrusting their hips in time with the music. As the three dancers stood up, Hoseok laid his hand on Jimin’s neck, and Jungkook’s hand covered both of Jimin’s eyes. The song ended, and Yoongi thought the theatre might explode from all the energy and deafening cheers. The three boys were still standing in the same position, chests heaving visibly. 

Everyone was on their feet, whistling and cheering, and Jin was probably the loudest of them all, screaming, “YEAH! THOSE ARE MY FRIENDS!!”

~

Hoseok’s group won the competition. There was no doubt in Yoongi’s mind that they would, but seeing Hoseok cradling a huge-ass trophy in his arms with a shit eating grin slapped on his face made Yoongi bubble up with pride. Thanks to Hoseok’s instructing they had done that.

“Hoseokie!” Jin squealed from across the lobby, just now seeing the three boys come out of the dressing room. People gave him weird looks, but Jin didn't care because he was already throwing himself at Hobi as if the younger could catch him with such a large trophy in his arms. “I'm so proud of you guys!” He went around the group, giving each a suffocating hug. 

“You fucked it up out there,” Yoongi agreed, stepping next to Jin, nodding at each dancer. When his eyes met Jimin’s, they stared at each other for a little longer than necessary before Jin jabbed an elbow into his side. 

“Don't swear in public,” he scolded.

“But we did fuck it up!” Jungkook declared rather loudly, causing Jin to let out a scrutinized gasp. 

“Jungkook!”

“Sorry, hyung.”

“Jajangmyeon?” Hoseok suggested, cutting over Jin’s motherly protests. 

“God yes,” Yoongi breathed. He hadn't eaten lunch, and jajangmyeon sounded perfect to his starving taste buds. He put an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders and turned towards the rest of the group. 

“Anyone else wanna come?” Hoseok asked. Jin declined because he had an obligation to meet, and Namjoon said he had work to do tonight so that only left Jungkook and Jimin.

“I'm down,” Jungkook shrugged, wandering over to stand beside Hoseok as well. “Jimin hyung?”

Jimin seemed to weigh the pros and cons, but eventually grinned and nodded his head. “Sure. Victory meal.”

“That's right, Jiminie!” Hoseok agreed loudly, slinging an arm around his neck. “We deserve it, especially you. We wouldn't have won if it wasn't for your sexiness, right Yoongi?”

Yoongi wanted to strangle him. Why would he ask him such a fucking blunt question? Jimin’s face was on fire, and he looked rather apprehensive of Yoongi’s answer. “Right,” Yoongi deadpanned, face bored, trying his best to look unaffected. He tugged the cuff of his suit over his tattooed wrist rather curtly, leading the rest of the group out of the door as he turned on his heel. They walked around the corner to the closest takeout place and ordered their food. Yoongi paid for all their meals, much to everyone's protests. He said they deserved it, and he looked right at Jimin as the words came out of his mouth. Jimin turned away with a blush, and Yoongi was slightly aware he was being very direct. 

They took their takeout boxes to the street and sat on the corner of a lonely sidewalk right underneath a streetlight, trophy reflecting all of their giggling faces. “Did you hear the crowd when Jimin started dancing?” Hoseok laughed, cheeking his noodles and struggling to talk. 

“They loved you,” Jungkook commented, bumping shoulders with Jimin, who giggled in response as he shoved noodles into his mouth.

“They loved you more,” Jimin countered, food spilling out from the sides of his smile. “I think I head every girl scream when you started grinding.”

Jungkook groaned, trying his best to suppress a laugh. “I already have enough girls at my doorstep, I don't need anymore!”

“Privileged brat,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, causing the others to erupt in laughter. 

A comfortable silence settled on them like a blanket as they finished their takeout. Yoongi leaned on Hoseok’s shoulder, who in return ran his long fingers through the older’s hair. Jimin broke the silence. “Fuck, I feel so high right now.”

Hoseok chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno, man,” he breathed. Yoongi glanced over at the younger boy. Jimin was looking at the black sky, breathing out puffs of cold air as he leaned back. “I just feel like... nothing matters right now except this, you know? I'm here, and I can do anything.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re weird, hyung.”

Jimin shrugged. “Maybe I am, but everything feels like it's working out anyway.” Yoongi couldn't help but feel the same way. In some twisted way, he felt like things were the way they’re supposed to be- here with Hoseok playing with his hair, and here with a cocky Jungkook, and here with Jimin, Seoul's greatest sniper. It didn't matter that Jimin was a criminal, nothing mattered right now except this. This. “Common.”

Yoongi looked at Jimin, who had hopped up from the sidewalk and was balancing on the cracks of the concrete. 

“Let's go somewhere. Right now.”

“Where do you wanna go, Jiminie?” Hoseok asked, but also stood up to join him. 

“Anywhere, hyung,” Jimin breathed. “Let's just… run away.” When Yoongi stood up to join them, he noticed how blown Jimin’s eyes were, almost as if he really was high. “I wanna get away from here.”

“I have an idea,” Jungkook remarked, looking up at them from where he was still sitting on the sidewalk. “The coffee shop’s closed tonight, but I have the key. It's only ten minutes from here.”

“Then let's go,” Jimin agreed, reaching a hand down to help Jungkook up. He grabbed the trophy and they were on their way to the cafe. 

Yoongi walked comfortably next to Jungkook, who casually told him about himself as if his tongue was loose and ready to share everything. “My brother gave me this scar,” he said absently, pointing to the little indent in his cheekbone. “We were fighting over the computer.” Yoongi snorted. “My mom was pissed. Dad was too. He didn't let us use the computer for another month. You should have seen my brothers face when dad told him…” he dissolved into quiet chuckles. 

Yoongi was a little confused as to why the younger was telling him this, but he didn't have time to question it because they had already arrived at the cafe, and Jungkook was taking out his key and unlocking the door. When they stumbled inside Jungkook flicked the lights on and locked the door again, making sure the sign said the cafe was closed before turning towards the counter. “Coffee anyone?” he asked. He was met with sounds of approval. Jungkook nodded and fished something out from inside the cash register. He threw the little baggy full of weed at Jimin, who caught it with a snort.

“Now we can really get high.”

“Why are you hoarding weed in the cash register?” Yoongi asked, chuckling slightly. 

“Never know when you’ll need it,” Jungkook shrugged, smirking as he prepared the coffee.

Yoongi lounged on the old cracking leather couch and Jimin sat down on the wood floor right beside the older’s legs. “Lighter?” Jimin asked no one in particular.

Yoongi pulled a pastel pink Bic lighter from his suit jacket. “Here.”

“Cute, hyung,” Jimin commented, scrunching up his nose as he placed the blunt between his lips and held the lighter to the end. He tossed the lighter back to Yoongi and took a deep drag, groaning in pleasure. Hoseok went to help Jungkook behind the counter, and Yoongi was left with the silver-haired boy at his feet. “I've needed this,” Jimin whispered, maybe to himself, maybe to Yoongi.

“Yeah?” Yoongi questioned, glancing down at the younger. “Why’s that?”

Jimin took another hit and cocked his head so he could stare at Yoongi. He kept the smoke in his lungs a long moment before gently breathing it out towards Yoongi. The older inhaled his smoke, closing his eyes as the pleasure spread through him. “Should I tell you?”

“Mmm, the others can't hear us,” Yoongi said lowly, glancing at the counter where the two boys were fiddling with the coffee machine.

“Work had been stressing the fuck out of me,” Jimin sighed, taking one last inhale before handing the blunt to Yoongi, who plucked it from his fingers gratefully. Yoongi waited for the younger to explain further. “I attended a meeting the other day. A meeting for nobles.”

“Nobles?”

Jimin made a noise of confirmation. “Important XTC workers.” The younger was still watching Yoongi, big eyes glued to his own. “Someone recognized me as Seoul's best sharpshooter.” Jimin looked away after he said it; as if he was embarrassed. 

“So?” Yoongi prompted. 

“I don't want to be known as a killer.”

“You kill bad people, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Jimin muttered, voice a bit whiny since Yoongi didn't understand. 

“Then you shouldn't feel guilty,” Yoongi decided. “You said yourself there’s no way to get out. You don't need to feel guilty for something that's your fault.”

Jimin relaxed slightly, maybe from the weed taking effect or from Yoongi’s logical words. “I wish other people would say that,” he sighed, blindly reaching to take the blunt from Yoongi. He placed the roll between his lips and inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke towards the ceiling in one long puff. 

A few minutes later Jungkook and Hoseok came over with coffee, sitting down on the couch next to Yoongi and rolling another blunt. 

 

“Now I really feel high,” Jimin whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos :)
> 
> Hopefully next week there will be even more fluff????? Their relationship has set sail, everyone


	9. Show Me.

Sunday

 

Jimin was at peace. He felt it in his bones, washing over him like a smooth wave. The fact that someone else who wasn't a member of XTC knew his secret and still accepted him was enough to make him overflow with a sense of calmness he had originally abandoned when he joined the mafia. He was thankful. 

Jimin painted when he was happy, and right now he was slowly dragging a brush across the canvas, large brown eyes following the drawn-out movements. He was painting waves. Large aqua green curls of color and white highlights that seemed to jump off the canvas. The closest thing Jimin could describe his calmness as was a wave; a calm wave that he was riding, trusting that wherever it would take him he would be okay. He was trusting this wave to bring him to nirvana, and from the way it was headed, Jimin felt it wasn't too far away. 

He looked out the penthouse window, giving his eyes a rest from staring at a canvas for hours. The sun was setting, casting a pink shadow on the marble floors of his apartment. Jimin let out a long breath, standing up to stretch his legs. He was careful to avoid the newspapers under the canvas as he stepped into the kitchen to grab a drink. That's when his peaceful life was disturbed once again. 

His phone rang, and Jimin fumbled around in his pockets before remembering he left it on the couch and had to run across the huge expanse of the marble floor and dive to pick it up. He didn't recognize the number but slid the green button to the right anyway. 

“Park Jimin,” he greeted, a little out of breath.

“Park,” the voice said. It was a male’s voice. “This is Kang Nishki.”

That name sounded familiar to Jimin. A man with a Korean last name and a Japanese first name. “I'm sorry, who is this?” he asked for clarification.

“Kang Nishki, head of defense for XTC.”

“Ah,” Jimin remembered. Nishki was an older fellow who had been working for the mafia as Mr Kim’s most trusted guard since the beginning. “I'm sorry, sir, how are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” he answered. Nishki was one of the more calmer and friendlier men of XTC. 

“Is everything alright, sir?” Jimin asked. He was nervous something had happened. Maybe the police had finally busted them, maybe he was in trouble, maybe he had killed the wrong guy during his latest operation. 

“Everything is fine,” he assured, voice not changing at all. “I was recommended by a boss of yours, Nam Chul, to serve as a defense guard at the upcoming gala next Saturday.”

“Defense guard?”

“Yes. There are ten men to attend every gala as undercover guards who also serve as our ears. One of our men was shot yesterday, and Nam said you would be a good replacement.”

Great, the guy had been shot. “Could you uh, explain a little further please?” Jimin really wasn't getting it. 

“Of course. You will be attending the gala as a regular guest with a date, as to blend in. Mr Kim will also be attending, and that's why we need you to keep an eye out. Often times, men against him will try something at a party because they think security is low, which is never the case. You and nine other men will be packing in the unlikely case something happens. As for being ears, you will also be talking to as many guests as possible, preferably the wealthier ones, picking out information XTC could use as blackmail or to simply upload into our database.”

“I understand now,” Jimin nodded, although Nishki couldn't see him. 

“This is a very important gala to raise awareness for...” there was the sound of papers rustling in the background, “- starving children in Africa.” Jimin tried not to snort in laughter. “Many esteemed people will be attending, including the governor of Seoul and many celebrities. I shouldn't be telling you this, but the pay is a very… liberal sum of money and I think it would be foolish to turn down such an offer.”

Jimin already knew his answer. “When did you say it was?”

“Next Saturday evening at 7 pm,” Nishki informed. “Shall I give you time to think the offer over?”

“No, that's okay. I’ll do it,” Jimin said quickly. He never turned down large sums of money, even though he was pretty well off. That was an understatement, Jimin was swimming in money.

“I'm sure you will do well, seeing as Nam himself recommended you. Make sure you find a date and dress formally. I’ll send you the rest of the information concerning defense weapons and packing placement.”

“Yes sir, I’ll be awaiting the information.”

“Good, Park,” Niski said. “I’ll speak with you later. Please contact me if you have any questions after reading over the instructions.”

“I will, sir, thank you,” Jimin respond politely. He ended the call and stared numbly at his phone. Why would Nishki contact him of all people? Oh, right, he was Seoul’s “Greatest Sniper”. He could protect Mr Kim at this gala, according to Nam. 

Now Jimin had to find a date for a gala, and that suddenly seemed like a very hard feat to accomplish. He first thought was Tae since he wouldn't need to explain the situation, but then he remembered Tae was banned from attending any events where something bad could happen. His next option was Jisu, so he unlocked his phone and tapped on her contact to call her.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hey, it's Jimin.”

“Jimin~” she sang. “Wassup?”

“I was chosen to be one of those undercover guards at the next gala,” he explained, picking at his lip nervously. “And I need a date.”

“Aren't you gay?” she questioned.

“Yeah, but I just need a date.”

“I didn't know you were on the defense team,” she said. 

“I'm not, but one of the guys died yesterday and they needed a quick replacement.”

“Unfortunate,” Jisu commented dryly.

“Quite,” Jimin said sarcastically. “So can you do it?”

“When is it?”

“Saturday night.”

“Nope,” she said instantly. “I'm running a hack that night. Breaking right into Numbers database and get some dirt on them so the police can shut them down.”

“Good luck trying to find any dirt,” he snorted. “They always manage to bury everything. Maybe we really should start calling them a mafia, huh?”

“I’ll get the shit on them,” she said confidently. 

“Can't you move the hack back?” Jimin asked desperately. “I really need a date who I don't need to explain anything about the mafia too.”

“Sorry, I've been planning this for months. There’s, like, a fifty-second window that night where I can squeeze through their firewall,” she informed.

Jimin let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, okay. Good luck on that hack.”

“Good luck on finding a date,” she remarked rather smugly. 

“Thanks. Talk to you late, yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Bye, Jimin.”

He ended the call with a frustrated groan. Who the hell was he supposed to invite now? Hoseok and Jungkook would be suspicious as to why Jimin was attending such an esteemed event, and Yuta would probably have the same reaction. After all, they did think he was an insignificant college student, not a mafia worker. 

Yoongi was the only logical answer. He was the only person who knew about the mafia. Jimin had been trying to avoid this outcome, but there really wasn't any other option. It's not that he was opposed to having Yoongi himself as a date, he was just worried that the older would reject his offer. They had gotten along extremely well on Friday night at the cafe. In fact, Jimin would say they were both being rather straightforward that night. They had shared a blunt- no, they had shared smoke, too. Jimin had tilted his head up and breathed his smoke right into Yoongi’s mouth. Later in the night after they were all a bit stoned and Jungkook and Hoseok were having a handstand competition, Yoongi had tilted his chin up to breath his own smoke into the youngers mouth, who had accepted it gratefully. Just thinking about it sent a pleasurable shiver up his spine. Jimin had gotten high on Yoongi’s breath.

Jimin shook off the thought and turned his eyes to stare at the phone in his hands. He had Yoongi’s number, he could call him right now. But he felt it was too soon, they had just seen each other Friday; Jimin didn't want to appear clingy. He pocketed his phone and opted for waiting until he felt the time was right, or when he mustered the guts to actually do it. 

He padded back across the penthouse to finish his painting. Painting was one of the only things that made him happy. For a while, Jimin thought being a sniper made him happy. The first year of the new job, Jimin was constantly being pummeled by guilt. He didn't like killing people, and it made him feel dirty. Year two rolled around, though, and Jimin started to enjoy it. It was a precise craft- maybe even a form of art- that required laser focus and calmness. He wasn't allowed to get overwhelmed by a situation, and pretty soon he started liking that. He liked the rush of adrenaline he felt as he was looking through the gun’s sight and lining the red dot up with the person’s head. The power knowing he could end anyone's life at any time made him almost high at the time. Now, the art of killing was a rather drab business; one Jimin wished he hadn't gotten into. He didn't feel too much guilt anymore, seeing as there was no going back, but after a job, he would become irritable and snappy. That's why he had tried to cut back on the sniping jobs he accepted. 

Jimin’s dad taught him how to shoot a gun when he was just thirteen- telling him only real men knew how to shoot- but he had never used those skills until three years ago. His dad was a scientist in biology, a man with a steady job that raked in a liberal amount of money each year. It was only until after he died from Parkinson's that the Park family realized they were in debt. A lot of debt, to be exact. Nobody in the family knew it before, but Mr. Park was a gambler with an addiction. He had blown all his money at the casinos and had led the family straight into the rabbit hole that was financial instability. Suddenly their house was too expensive and they were collecting food stamps as Jimin’s mother looked for jobs. Jimin and his baby brother were promptly taken out of private school and dumped into a public one. 

Jimin knew his father would be disappointed if he could see his son now. He was a sniper for a mafia, he was an art student, and he liked men. That last one, in particular, would have really struck a nerve with his dad. Men were supposed to like women, that's what he had been taught from the beginning. Except now… now things were different. Homosexuality was becoming less of a taboo subject in Korean, and more people were learning to adapt to the changes. 

Thinking about this, Jimin’s mind wandered to Yoongi again. Yoongi and his pale skin, small dark eyes, and perfectly messy mint hair. The ink that covered his body and curled around his hands, and the contrast between his untouched ghostly face and the black lines of his neck. It was enough to have Jimin biting down on his lip. He wanted to ask Yoongi to the gala, he was sure of that. Yoongi accepted him, and he hadn't met someone who did in quite a while. Despite their previous dispute, Jimin felt comfortable around him, and he needed to get closer to Yoongi.

 

 

~ Sunday

 

Taehyung and Yoongi sighed in unison, both staring at the empty cork-board. “No appointments for you either?” the younger asked, rather disappointed.

“Nope.”

They sighed again. “Well, what do you say about that piercing, huh?” Taehyung asked. “Since we have no work today.”

“What kind?” Yoongi asked, turning to face the boy. He hadn't given the piercing much thought, but he wasn't totally against it, either. Tae said it would look hot, so why not, right?

“Whatever you want,” he said, grinning in anticipation. “I could pierce your lip, or nose, or eyebrow, or dick-”

“No thanks,” Yoongi said quickly. “I am not getting my dick stabbed.”

“Then what do you want, grumpy old man?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I dunno, what would look best?”

Taehyung cocked his head to squint at him, looking at the older from all different angles. “Hmm.... a septum piercing would be nice… but maybe you want something that could be concealed…”

An idea struck Yoongi. “What about a tongue piercing?”

Taehyung's eyes lit up. “That would be so cool, hyung!” he squealed. “You wanna get a tongue piercing?”

“Isn't that what I just said?” Yoongi said blandly. 

“Yes!” he squeaked, jumping up in the air and pumping his fists. “Let's go, common!”

“Right now?” Yoongi coughed, letting himself be dragged to Taehyung’s piercing room. 

“Of course, when else would we do it?” He pushed Yoongi onto the edge of the dentist chair in the middle of the room. While he gathered his supplies, Yoongi was trying to stop himself from having a mental breakdown.

“Will it hurt?” Yoongi asked nervously.

“Duh,” he muttered, sterilizing a long needle that had Yoongi cringing. 

“You’re not supposed to say that!” Yoongi objected. 

“What do you want me to say?” Taehyung blanched. 

“I dunno! Something like, ‘It won't hurt’?” 

“I don't wanna lie,” he protested innocently. “You want a ball, right?”

Yoongi nodded, taking a large gulp. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

“What color, hyung?” Taehyung brought the box of piercings over, displaying all the different kinds of styles. There were different metallic colors- silver, pink, blue, and black. Yoongi chose the black shiny ball, and Taehyung nodded, snapping on latex gloves and grabbing the rest of his supplies. “Okay, hyung.” Taehyung sat on his swivel chair and rolled up next to Yoongi. “Stick your tongue out all the way. Try to touch your chin.” Yoongi did as he was instructed, nervously sticking his tongue out. Taehyung grabbed a paper towel and proceed to wipe his tongue dry before placing a little dot where he wanted to ball to go. “Here we go…” Taehyung mumbled, taking a clamp that looked like a bubble blower and snatching his tongue like salad tongs. “Make sure to breathe.” Taehyung took the needle and pushed it through his tongue in one swift movement. Yoongi made a loud sound of discomfort, bordering on whiny. “I have the needle in, let me just get the piercings in.” Taehyung pushed the ball piercing in and pulled the long needle out. He finished up by sticking the backing in and snapped his gloves off with a satisfied grin. “There we go, hyung.”

Yoongi’s mouth was dry as sandpaper, and the metal ball felt heavy on his tongue. “Ugh, this feels weird,” he grumbled, voice sounding a little funny as he tried to talk.

“You’ll get used to it quickly,” Taehyung said, disposing the needle and paper towels into the trash can. 

Yoongi shuffled out of the room to look in the mirror hanging on the wall. He stuck his tongue out and laughed. “Taehyung, this looks fucking dope!” he called, voice still wonky.   
“Thanks!”

“No problem, hyung!” he called back. 

Yoongi admired it for another five minutes, tentatively touching his sore tongue. He wasn't going to lie, it hurt like a bitch, but it was definitely worth it. “You look so cool,”   
Taehyung remarked, coming out of his room. 

“I thought I couldn't get any cooler,” Yoongi mused sarcastically.

“Right,” he giggled. “Hey, I'm gonna grab a coffee. You want anything?”

 

~

Wednesday

 

Yoongi stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and decided he was going to get his shit together. After getting his piercing done, he felt as if he wanted to do a spring cleaning with his body. He was too thin, and his hair was an ugly washed out mint color. He usually wore torn up baggy clothing that hadn't been washed in days, and he decided he was going to change that. 

It was six thirty in the morning. Usually, he didn't wake up until nine, but today his body clock seemed to have taken a dramatic twist. Yoongi was sick of his life, that was the easiest way to put it. He was sick of being tired and sick of those dark bags underneath his dull eyes. He needed to stop taking sleeping pills and he needed to stop smoking cigarettes. He was going to get his fucking act together. 

He started by going to the salon. He had enough time to get his hair dyed a generic black color and maybe go shopping for some decent clothes before work. He told Namjoon he was going out, and the younger only mumbled an incoherent string of sleepy words before opening the fridge. 

Yoongi got his hair done at the first salon he saw. The woman who did his hair had the longest fucking nails- so much they looked like talons- but Yoongi had to grin and bear the long hair washes if he wanted to look presentable again. It took shorter than he expected, and only two hours later he was walking out of the salon with a new mop of messily styled black hair. Unfortunately, the black made his skin look even paler in comparison, but he shrugged and decided he couldn't do anything to help his genes. He passed a clothing store on his way to the parlor, and before he could change his mind, he was walking inside. He found a pair of white skinny jeans and a salmon (not pink) collared shirt with little black koi fish on the sleeves. He also saw a pair of checkered vans, the ones like Jimin and the rest of the team had worn on stage. He bought those, too. He hadn't gone shopping in a while, and decided he could splurge a little.

He made it to the parlor on time, dropping his shopping bags safely under his desk. Taehyung wasn't coming in until after classes, so Yoongi had the store to himself this morning. It was nice having the boy around, but it was also peaceful when the parlor was relatively silent, save for the music Yoongi would sometimes pump through the speakers. 

His first customer was an older man with cold beady eyes and a hard face. Yoongi couldn't help the shiver that ran down his back when he laid eyes on the obviously confident man. His broad shoulders seemed to protrude from his thick veiny neck, and Yoongi couldn't help but fix his eyes on the guy’s lips because... they seemed familiar. He wasn't expecting this man.

“G-Good morning, sir,” Yoongi greeted politely, stuttering quite a lot for a man covered in tattoos. “Do yuh- you have an appointment, sir?”

“No.”

“Oh, um, that's okay,” Yoongi assured quickly, gulping at the man’s piercing glare. “What can I get you?”

“I need you to design a tattoo for me,” he said emotionlessly. Yoongi liked to think he had perfected the so-called “dead” voice, but this man was in a whole different league. 

“For you?”

“Me, and many other people,” the man explained slowly, eyes never leaving Yoongi. 

“-Okay,” Yoongi said after a moment's hesitation. “Would you like to come to my desk?” He led the huge man to his glass desk, taking out a clean sheet of paper and pencil. “What were you thinking, sir?”

The guy was silent for a long moment, save for his rather labored breathing, then he finally spoke up. “Do you have any experience in drugs?”

The question caught Yoongi off guard. “Uhm, that depends how, sir?”

“Do you know what Ecstasy looks like?” he asked instead.

Ecstasy. Ecstasy. Yoongi knew what was going on. “I do,” he nodded slowly, trying to keep his voice even. “A small colored pill with different stamps in the middle.”

“Good.” The man seemed to drift off in thought, before blinking hard and looking down at the blank paper. “Many people will be coming in here to get this tattoo. I was thinking the pill would be small, like the actual one, but each person would have a different stamp inside.”

Yoongi nodded, gulping hard. “I-I can do that.” He started sketching frantically, drawing multiple 3D pills but adding a different stamp to each one. In one he drew a dolphin, on the next a crown, and then a cat face. Typical Ecstasy pills had fun little shapes inside, made to look harmless and fun. ‘One taste and you’re in love’ he recalled Taemin saying once as he held a pink pill out to Yoongi one night in Hagye. The memory sent chill bumps over his skin. “Like this, sir?” Yoongi asked, glancing back up towards the man.

He nodded, eyeing the paper. “Yes, that will suffice.”

“Would you like it to be just in black outline, or do you want any color?”

“Black will be fine. People will be coming here soon enough.”

“...Do you want one?” Yoongi asked carefully. 

The man thought for a moment. “Not at the moment, no.”

“Is that all, sir?” he asked, standing up to properly face the guy. Yoongi looked like a broken toothpick next to him; thin and short.

“That will be all,” the man confirmed. “Expect business to speed up the next few months.”

“Thank you for the opportunity, sir,” Yoongi bowed, lowering his eyes to the ground. 

“I trust you will do a good job, Min. After all, a relative of mine recommended your services.” 

Yoongi shivered. Was he allowed to ask who the relative was, or would that come across intrusive? He really didn't want to piss this guy off, so he settled on bowing his head again. “Uh, thank you, sir.” Yoongi had an idea. “Could I have a name? For business purposes.”

The man seemed to contemplate this. “Kim,” he finally said flatly, then turned on his heel suddenly. “Thank you, Min. You should hear from me later.”

“Uh, guh-goodbye, sir!” Yoongi called out as the guy slammed the door to the parlor. Yoongi fell back into his office chair and let out a long groan after he had watched the stiff man strut down the sidewalk and get into a white Mercedes. That had to be some kind of XTC worker. Maybe it was one of those nobles Jimin mentioned, but then again, he seemed really fucking important to just be a noble. Maybe he had just put himself in danger agreeing to work for this man, but did he really have a choice? And who exactly was the relative that had recommended him? His mind spun new theories and ideas within seconds, and pretty soon it got overwhelming and Yoongi had to remind himself to take a deep breath. He had definitely just designed a mafia tattoo, and now he was going to have members of that mafia coming in his parlor and asking for his services. This seemed like a bad idea on so many levels. 

Perfectly timed in the midst of his mild crisis, Yoongi’s phone erupted into a series of annoying chimes. He dug into his pocket and answered the phone without even looking at the ID name.

“Hello?” he answered, rather breathlessly.

“Yoongi hyung?” a voice greeted from the other end. A soft sweet voice that Yoongi immediately recognized as Jimin. Great. What was next, the whole mafia stomping down his door? “This is Jimin.”

As if Yoongi didn't him already. “Hey, Jimin,” he breathed, leaning back into his chair. What could the boy need? He hoped nothing bad had happened. “Whatsapp?”

“Is Tae going to be at the parlor around noon?” Jimin asked.

“No, he’s coming in after his classes which is about…” Yoongi wracked his brain, trying to remember the time Taehyung had told him. “Quarter to four.”

“Can I come by at twelve?” Jimin asked, rather straightforward. 

“Um, yeah, uh, sure, if you want?” Yoongi said dumbly. “Is something wrong?”

“No, but I need to talk to you about something.”

What could this be about? Yoongi wondered. “Okay, sure. I’ll be here.”

“Sounds good. See you later, hyung~,” he ended the call sweetly. 

Yoongi was a little baffled, and still a little nervous from the previous events, but mostly just confused. Jimin was like that- a confusing puzzle he wanted to solve. The thought of Jimin made his heart do a little happy jerk. After the competition on Friday, they had gone to the cafe and shared a blunt; shared smoke in a rather sultry manner. Yoongi thought he should try to get these teenage fantasies out of his mind that Jimin would even consider a relationship with him. Jimin was… amazing, and Yoongi was a depressed tattoo covered artist. Jimin was a sniper, he was a badass mafia worker, and the idea that he could fall for Yoongi was childish and unrealistic. 

Yoongi had told Jin his feelings for Jimin were above sexual attraction, but how could he have even said that when he didn't know shit about the younger? He regrets saying that now, because, yes, his feelings might be above sexual attraction, but did he know enough Jimin enough to consider it an actual attraction? The truth was simple and painful. Yoongi had fallen in love with Jimin’s body. The minute Jimin had walked through the door of his parlor he was instantly attracted, at it wasn't because he knew anything about the beautiful boy, either. He was attracted to his lips, and those brown eyes, and his soft legs. He didn't know how kind Jimin was, or how dedicated he was to his friends, or what a great dancer he was. No, he only liked Jimin because he thought he would be good in bed. But now things were changing, and it was scaring him. Yoongi didn't just think of Jimin’s body anymore, but his caring personality and soft tendencies. He didn't think about how good Jimin would look without clothes, but he thought about Jimin’s pain and what he had to go through. Yoongi realized he was starting to… care. And that terrified him because once upon a time, he had cared for Taemin, too.

 

~

 

Jimin took the information file under his arm and turned on his heel to leave the meeting room.

“And Jimin,” Nam added, stopping the younger in his tracks. “I’ll have the weapons delivered to you by the morning of the gala.”

“But I have my own gun,” Jimin said simply.

“I know, but it's standard procedure. You have to carry the same one every other guard is carrying. Sorry, kid.”

Jimin sighed. “Okay. And sorry for being a brat today, Nam-ssi.”

Nam only chuckled and waved him off. “Nah, Jimin. You’re not a brat. I understand this job will be difficult, even for you.”

“Even for me,” Jimin repeated quietly, then opened the door and walked out. Nam had just given him a new job today. A job that required a hired sniper, to be exact. He was already stressed out about the gala, but some guy wanted to go out and fuck with Numbers, so now he had to go out and shoot up a bunch of problem workers. The problem was simple- an XTC worker had some beef with a member of Numbers and decided to use his fists instead of his words. Seven XTC men are dead, and the mafia is… livid, to say the least. Jimin’s job is also simple- to go and put Numbers back in their place. There’s a fairly small war kindling, and Jimin knew it. Numbers couldn't just accept the fact they weren't a mafia, and now there was going to be hell to pay. Jimin knew Numbers was getting stronger, but he didn't know they would kill seven of their men. They barely had a reason, it was just over a petty fight over territory.

Like dogs, Jimin thought bitterly. 

Before the meeting, Jimin had gathered his nerves and called Yoongi. He needed to see the older in person, not just over a phone call. He needed to gage Yoongi’s reaction when he asked him if he would come to the gala with Jimin. His reaction was hard to understand through his voice alone, he needed to see Yoongi’s eyes and understand his body language. He didn't want it to seem like he was forcing Yoongi to go. Although, now, Yoongi was his only hope. 

He took the elevator up to the dark ground-floor hallway and entered his password into the metal door so he could push through and leave the bar. The bar usually opened at four, so right now there was no one in the building, save for the few people who were on the cleaning staff. He left the bar without a word and walked briskly down the street, stuffing the important files into his satchel and zipping the pocket shut. He didn't need those files slipping out. On the pages, there were the faces of the men he was ordered to kill. There was nothing painfully obvious on the paper than the police could use lest they find them, but there was enough information to at least make Numbers suspicious.   
He knew the way to the tattoo parlor and barely had to think as he turned streets and passed Jungkook’s cafe he had just been in on Friday night. He arrived at the parlor ten minutes later and saw a black-haired man through the window as he walked towards the new glass door. He was sitting on the couch, sketching something out in his book, tongue peeking out of his lips in concentration. Jimin thought it might be a little weird to knock, so he opened the door slowly, setting off the little tinkling bell. Yoongi’s head shot up, obviously surprised at the sound. His hair was a wonderful deep shade of black stark opposite from his ghostly skin. He looked too pale and fragile like this, but also radiated waves of ‘don't screw with me’. “Hey, hyung,” Jimin waved, shuffling into the parlor awkwardly, trying to play off the fact that he had been eye fucking his hyung. 

“Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi greeted, snapping his sketchbook closed and laying it on the table. “Wanna come sit down?” Jimin nodded, a little uncertain as to what he was going to say, but sat down next to Yoongi on the leather couch. “Is everything okay?” Yoongi probed after a long silence. “I wasn't expecting your phone call.”

“Yeah, I have something to ask you,” Jimin explained, playing with his hands. Yoongi waited for him to explain. “XTC gave me a job. I'm going to a fundraising gala on Saturday to act as an undercover guard. I’ll be keeping an eye on the head of XTC to ensure his safety, and I’ll also be walking around trying to find any information we can use.” He paused as if Yoongi knew what to say to this. He realized the pause had gotten too long, and continued quickly. “I'm required to bring a date along with me.”

Yoongi thought he understood now. “Ah,” he nodded.

Jimin gulped. “You’re the only person who knows about my job, and I've tried to ask other people but nobody’s available on such short notice.”

“So I'm the last resort.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“N-N-No!” Jimin sputtered quickly. “I didn't mean it luh-like that! I just didn't know if you would say yes, is all!”

Yoongi smirked as Jimin held his breath. “So,” the older said slowly, “You need me to go to a gala with you to be your date, and you’ll be secretly guarding the head of XTC?”

“Y-Yeah.” Jimin nodded frantically.

“I don't think that would be…” he trailed off, motioning with his hands in an empty effort to convey his thoughts. “I mean, I have tattoos and I'm a guy. I feel like that would ruin your reputation. Maybe you should bring a girl or something. It's a gala, right? Not a club. I won't fit in.”

Jimin didn't know Yoongi was this insecure. “That's not who I am, though,” he said, softly protesting. “I don't care about my reputation. All the people at the gala will know I'm a sniper, I don't have to mask my identity there.”

“But… me,” Yoongi said again, gesturing to his body. “I’ll look like a freak.”

“I don't care what you look like,” Jimin said, voice soft but decided, telling Yoongi to just shut up. “I want you to come because I know you’ll make this gala more bearable with your sarcastic jokes and sassy remarks.”

When Yoongi fell silent, Jimin thought he might have crossed some kind of line until Yoongi let out a groan and sank into the couch. “How am I supposed to say no when you talk to me like that?”

Jimin had to allow a small smile at that. “You don't have to go,” he said, just in case. 

Yoongi pushed a fragile inked hand through his messy hair. “I’ll go.”

“Really?” Jimin gasped. 

“Yeah, yeah. When is it again?”

“Saturday night.”

“What am I supposed to wear?” Yoongi asked.

“A nice evening suit,” Jimin explained. “But if you don't have one that’s fine.”

Yoongi chuckled, a little embarrassed. “I don't, actually. What a surprise. The only semi-formal clothes I own is that suit I wore to the competition.”

“That's it?” Jimin teased, wrinkling his nose. “We’re probably about the same size, you can borrow one of mine.” He took out his phone from his jean pocket, unlocking it and typing on the screen quickly. Yoongi thought this might be a good time to bring up the guy named Kim who had walked into his parlor this morning, but Jimin had already started speaking. “I'm gonna text you the address to my place.”

Yoongi perked up at that. “Why?”

“Um, so you can borrow one of my suits. And, you know, we need to arrive at the gala together, and XTC is giving me a rental car. It's really nice, too. Anyway, if you want, just come over around five on Saturday evening to get the suit and, you know, maybe-”

“Jimin,” Yoongi said, smiling a little. “You’re blabbering.

Jimin chuckled nervously. “Sorry. I didn't expect you to say yes.” Yoongi thought he looked soft in his big blue sweatshirt, chuckling in embarrassment and covering his smile with sweater paws. Yoongi asked him why he thought he wouldn't say yes. “Because we don't know each other that well…” he trailed off. This was definitely a repeat of events, and neither of them liked it. 

“I’ll be by your place at five,” Yoongi said instead, cutting the awkward tension.

“Okay,” Jimin nodded, standing up. “I’ll uh… I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Alright, Jimin,” Yoongi agreed, also standing up to be polite. “See you Saturday.”

“Say hi to TaeTae for me,” Jimin called as he was on the way out the door.

“I will. Bye!” Yoongi waved, then when the boy was out of sight, he fell backward onto the couch again, sighing loudly. He wondered why he had agreed to such a formal event. Formality and Yoongi did not go well together, that was for sure. 

 

~

 

Yoongi was pretty sure he had the wrong fucking address. He glanced down at his phone again and then back at the huge building in front of him. The tall glass structure loomed in front of him like a giant, reflecting the setting sun onto the sidewalk below him. How could Jimin live…. Here? Yoongi glanced back at the building again, then skeptically walked through the revolving doors. The lobby had marble floors and clean white walls, and white couches lined the walls. He walked up to the glass reception desk, glancing around in awe.

“Can I help you?” the woman at the desk asked, a pretty smile plastered on her face. 

“I'm here to see Park Jimin. Does he live here? I may have the wrong-”

“Top floor, room three,” she said, effectively cutting him off with a pearly grin. “Step through security and right into the elevator.”

“Um, okay, thank you, ma’am,” he said lamely, turning away to walk through security. His apartment had fucking security. The security team had him simply walk through a metal detector, then let him move on to the elevator. Yoongi pressed the button to take him to the top floor- level P. Jimin lived in a penthouse, and Yoongi had no idea what to think. It was a long ride, and Yoongi could only stare at himself in the reflection of the metal doors. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt since he was borrowing a suit from Jimin, but he felt incredibly underdressed to be standing in such a huge building. He rubbed his tongue piercing against the roof of his mouth nervously- a habit he had picked up since he got the thing. He tucked his inked hands into his jean pockets, trying to distract himself. Ugh, Jimin was really doing a number on him, wasn't he? Yoongi was supposed to be the one intimidating him, not the other way around. 

Finally, the elevator stopped on the top floor with a soft ding, and Yoongi shuffled out to find room three. It was easy- there were only three doors in the short hallway, so he picked the last one, and rang the doorbell cautiously. When nobody opened the bright red door right away, Yoongi thought he had the wrong address, but then there came muffled cursing and a loud thud, and a minute later Jimin was flinging the door open with a breathless gasp. 

“Get inside!” Jimin hissed quickly, hiding behind the door so Yoongi couldn't see him. “I don't want my neighbors to see me naked.”

“You’re naked?” Yoongi asked in surprise, clamping a hand over his eyes and blindly walking through the door, almost stumbling. He heard the door slam behind him and a whoosh of air run past him. 

“Yeah, gimme a second!” he called, a lot farther away than Yoongi had thought. 

“Can I open my eyes?” Yoongi shouted, still staring into the palm of his hand. 

“Yeah! Don't come into the bathroom, though!” he shouted back. 

Yoongi took his hand away from his eyes and found himself in a very large apartment. Large was an understatement, this apartment was fucking monstrous. The floors were marble, just like the lobby, and one whole wall was a giant window- like the outside of a storefront. The filtered pastel colors through the floor to ceiling glass, and left pink hues on the red leather couches in one corner of the room. Huge wooden beams ran across the high ceiling, giving it a modern effect. On Yoongi’s left, there was an open kitchen, complete with marble countertops and a big island right smack in the middle. Yoongi noticed there wasn't a kitchen table, Jimin must eat on the couch or on one of the barstools at the island. 

The many paintings that lined the white walls also caught Yoongi’s attention. Most of them were paintings of rolling waves, beautiful curls of aqua and shimmering greens that seemed to jump right off the canvases. Yoongi walked farther into the apartment, eyes never leaving the painting-clad walls. They were absolutely stunning, he didn't know what else to say. They looked to real Yoongi might have been able to stick his hand out and dip his fingers right into the water. When he got to the living room, he noticed a small hallway to the side, with two closed doors. He thought it must be the bathroom and Jimin’s bedroom. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Yoongi stared dumbly at the entrance hallway, wondering what he should. “Ah, Jimin,” he called. “Someone is here-”

“Shit!” the boy cursed, flinging the door of the bathroom open and running to answer the door. He was only wearing pants, and when he reached out to grab the door handle of the sleek red door, Yoongi saw these back muscles ripple- and oh god, his mouth was getting a little dry at the prospect of what he looked like from the front-

“Nam sent me,” he heard a nervous voice call from the doorway. A quick glance showed Yoongi it was a smaller man, with big round eyes and toothpick legs, holding a huge cardboard box and openly gaping at Jimin’s naked body.

“Right,” Jimin said dismissively, grabbing the box out of the guy’s hands and nodding. “Thank you.”

“Uh, Yessir!”

“Bye!” Jimin called, turning back on his heel and kicking the red door shut. Jimin almost ran right into Yoongi but caught himself with a breathless laugh. “Hi hyung, sorry I'm so disorganized.”

“Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi chuckled, finding it hard to not openly stare at Jimin’s body like the delivery guy had just done. When Jimin laid the box down on one of the glossy red couches, Yoongi finally saw all of him- noticeable abs and a smooth toned chest. Not at all a gym rat, but rather soft muscle; not overwhelming. 

Jimin and Yoongi stood like this- staring at each other- for a long moment until they realized what they were doing, and each turned away, blushes slightly dusting their cheeks. Jimin turned back to the box as a distraction, hurriedly talking to Yoongi as he did so. “How are you doing?”

“Hm? Good,” Yoongi said languidly, enjoying Jimin’s flushed state. “Are you gonna put a shirt on?”

“N-Not yet,” he mumbled, cutting the tape and opening the box. A few packing peanuts flew out and landed on the glossy floors. “I have to open the box first.”

Ah,” Yoongi nodded, admiring Jimin’s tan back. “By the way, did you paint all these?” He motioned around the apartment, where the walls were packed with waves. 

“Yup,” he answered proudly, turning around to look at the older. “Three years of waves, whaddya think?”

“I think they’re incredible,” he answered honestly. “They look so… realistic.”

“T-Thanks,” Jimin stuttered, turning back around to dig in the packing peanuts.

“Why do you have such a big apartment?” Yoongi asked bluntly.

“I can afford it,” Jimin whispered, apparently finding what he was searching for as he pulled out a black handgun from the box. “And you know why.”

“I suppose I do,” he said, eyeing the gun cautiously. 

Jimin sat down on the couch, gun cradled in his palms like a baby. “You wanna get something to drink? There’s Pepsi in the fridge.” Yoongi didn't answer but instead turned to walk towards the kitchen. He popped open the fridge and grabbed two cans of Pepsi, not missing all the alcoholic beverages that lined the shelves. He leaned his elbows on the marble island and watched Jimin from across the room, playing with the gun like a baby would play with his rattle. He flicked some buttons and the magazine clip fell out with a loud pop. Jimin must have observed there were no bullets inside because he shifted to dig around in the box some more. 

Was he supposed to be scared right now? Yoongi wasn't- he felt nothing but peace and calm heat as he watched a half-naked Jimin work the gun like a pro, flicking safety and popping levers. He didn't feel any discomfort standing in the kitchen of a sniper because he knew the real Jimin didn't have a choice. He knew the real Jimin giggled softly and blushed when anyone gave him a compliment. 

He shook off the slightly concerning thoughts and walked back to the living room where he set Jimin’s Pepsi on the glass coffee table and sank into a red chair with his own, sipping slowly as he watched Jimin over the rim of the can. Jimin seemed to feel the eyes burning into his head because he looked up at Yoongi with a frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi dismissed. 

“Are you… uncomfortable?” Jimin asked in a worried voice, motioning weakly to the gun his lap with a now full magazine of bullets. 

“No, I'm not uncomfortable, Jimin,” he said softly. “Don't worry about me, yeah? You don't scare me.”

A look of absolute peace washed over Jimin's face- like a wave. “I don't?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Jimin whispered, seemingly lost in thought. “You’re the first person who isn't in the mafia to say something like that.”

“Really?”  
“Yeah.” He took the Pepsi can and popped the cap open, taking a small sip before going back to dig in the box again, this time pulling straps out and laying them down on the table. He stood up and wrapped one strap around his arm, pulling the leather taut and slipping the gun into the holster underneath his armpit. 

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Yoongi asked, glancing at the odd placement of the gun.

Jimin shrugged, going back to the box once again and pulling out a much smaller gun. “Kind of. You get used to it, though.” He sat back down on the couch and pulled the leg of his slacks up to strap the gun to his calf. He pulled the fabric down with a quick pull, covering the gun up as if it had never even been there in the first place. “I’ll get your suit, be right back,” he remarked as he walked away into the small hallway and entered the other room. He returned a moment later with a large plastic clothing wrap on a hanger, and a white shirt hanging unbuttoned on his own body. Jimin unzipped the bag and pulled the suit from the hanger. It was a white suit. Like, all white. Yoongi thought it would look weird with all his tattoos, but he trusted Jimin’s judgment. “There’s a privacy curtain over there,” he said, pointing to a corner dressing room Yoongi hadn't noticed before. 

Yoongi took the suit and walked behind the white stained glass privacy wall, draping the suit over the top of the glass. “Why do you have a dressing room?” Yoongi asked. “You have people come over to borrow your suits a lot?”

Jimin shrugged. Yoongi’s head stuck out from the top of the glass and he could see the younger buttoning his shirt up slowly. Jimin glanced over to Yoongi and they caught eye contact, and both kept it as Yoongi pulled the shit over his hand and slipped into the new white one. He decided to keep the buttons undone like Jimin had done, just to tease the younger when he came out from the privacy wall. “I don't have people over often,” Jimin said, breaking eye contact as he grabbed the soda can from the table again and taking a slow sip. 

Yoongi yanked off his jeans and left them puddled on the floor as he pulled on the new white slacks. He pulled up the zipper and walked from out behind the divider. Jimin glanced down at his stomach and then looked away. “You nervous?” the younger asked, grabbing his black suit jacket from the arm of the couch and shrugging it on, tugging on his cuffs roughly as Yoongi buttoned up his shirt. 

“A bit,” Yoongi admitted, popping the color of his dress shirt to pull the silk tie around. “Don't really know what to expect, to be honest.”

“It won't be as bad as you think,” he commented, walking up to Yoongi and reaching out to straighten his tie. The older froze at this rather natural action, and Jimin seemed to notice because he quickly drew his hands away. “Sorry.”

Yoongi didn't want him to be embarrassed, so he reached out to straighten Jimin’s tie in the same manner, making the younger’s breath catch audibly in his throat. What the fuck was he doing? He wanted to stop, but his body wouldn't let him as he smoothed out the black tie and rested his hand on the younger’s chest for a slight moment before turning back to grab his own white suit jacket and slip it on. Yoongi loved the tension in the air, it was so thick it felt like he was drowning- but in a good way. Like sinking slowly, water encasing you in almost a comforting manner. 

“We better get going, huh?” Yoongi remarked, snapping Jimin out of his faze.

“R-Right,” he nodded. “The car should be parked outside.” Jimin made sure he had everything, then led Yoongi out of the apartment and into the elevator. 

“What’s this gala for anyway?” Yoongi asked, leaning against the metal elevator wall.

“Starving children in Africa, I think,” Jimin shrugged, playing with his cuffs. “I don't really know. But there’ll be champagne.”

Yoongi snorted, glancing over at the younger. “You’re weird, Park Jimin.”

Jimin smiled at this, glancing back at him. “I know, right?”

“Why is the head of XTC coming?” Yoongi asked.

“To make connections. If he gets a bunch of rich bastards on his side, there’s no way he’ll ever get arrested.”

“Makes sense,” he mumbled. “You said people going to the gala know you’re a sniper?”

“Some,” Jimin answered quietly, obviously put off by this question. “I know a lot of… rich people, I guess. If you make connections early, you put yourself out of harm's way. The police aren't able to even touch me.”

“Good,” Yoongi said absently. Neither of them really knew what that meant. 

When the lift arrived on the ground floor they got out, walking side by side across the expensive lobby. The bell boy at the door gave a bow and said, “Enjoy your evening, Mr. Park.” Jimin smiled and offered the boy a small wave as they walked out the revolving door. 

Right outside parked in front of the sidewalk was a sleek black Porsche, practically begging to be driven. “Is this your rental car, Mr. Park?” Yoongi asked, trying to keep the awe out of his voice. He had never even touched a car so expensive. 

“Yeah, you like it?” Jimin asked, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked over to gage Yoongi’s reaction.

“What kind of a question is that?” he chuckled, running two fingers across the glossy black hood in amazement. “

“Then let's go,” the younger quipped, walking over to the other side to climb into the driver’s seat. Yoongi was a little hesitant to get inside, but sank into the leather seat with a noise of surprise, admiring the modern interior. “First time?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, still marveling over the little screen display. Jimin started the car up and slid out smoothly from the curb. He kept one hand on the gear shift and one resting lazily on the wheel, and Yoongi found it kind of hot to see Jimin so relaxed in such an expensive car. Yoongi himself felt pretty invincible. He was in a fucking Porsche next to a sniper, on the way to a fancy gala. He was going to a gala, with another man, and he had the taboo idea of tattoos curling from under his stark white suit and against his neck and hands. What else was he supposed to feel?

“Is that new?” Jimin asked, keeping his eyes on the busy road. 

“Huh?”

“The tongue piercing. I noticed it when you were gaping.”

Yoongi blushed. “Yeah, it's new. Taehyung did it the other day.” A long silence went by before he was asking, “Do you like it?” Yoongi was surprised at his own question, he usually didn't seek the approval of other people, especially when it came to his rather society-shamed body. 

Jimin peeked over at him, amusement clear in those brown orbs. “Yeah, but it's black.”

Yoongi quirked a brow. “And?”

“Everything about you is black now,” Jimin pointed out. “You dyed your hair and all your tattoos are black.”

“Maybe I should get some color on my skin, huh?” Yoongi chuckled, eyeing the rose tattooed on his elegant pale hand. “What color?”

“Red,” Jimin said, not missing a beat. “It would look good on you.”

“You like red a lot, huh?” Yoongi wondered, remembering the boy’s red apartment door and red couches clashing wonderfully with the blue waves on the walls. 

“My favorite color,” Jimin added, smiling happily. “Looks good with everything.”

Yoongi thought the younger was probably right. “Is this what it feels like to be rich?” he asked suddenly, changing the subject completely. 

Jimin was quiet for a long moment. “It feels dirty.”

Yoongi was baffled at his rather metaphorical answer. How could living so well feel dirty? “I don't get it.”

“It's great for a while,” Jimin explained slowly, keeping his eyes on the traffic flow. “It's really fucking great.” He changed lanes. “But it doesn't last long. It's like being high.”  
Yoongi propped his elbow up on the window and looked at the younger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me.”

Jimin’s hand froze on the steering wheel. “What?”

“Show me,” Yoongi said, “What it feels like to be so dirty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 100 kudos and for sticking with me throughout the weeks :) 
> 
>  
> 
> More next week XXX


	10. Rich Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again :)
> 
> Interesting chapter up ahead

_“Show me what it feels like to be so dirty.”_

Jimin thought Yoongi was trying to degrade him- remind him that he really was a dirty sniper- but he quickly realized that’s not at all what the older meant. Yoongi wasn't calling him dirty, he was asking for Jimin to show him his lifestyle to get to know the younger better. He didn't say it outright- Yoongi wasn't too good with words, Jimin knew that- but he was sure that’s what the older meant. At his words, Jimin felt a flame fly through his body, like a lighter held to a trail of gunpowder. He felt it surge up his spine and along his scalp and down to his ankles. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he looked over at Yoongi, who was staring at him with harder eyes than Jimin would have expected.

“Why?” Jimin asked quietly, right hand fiddling with the gear shift.

“To know you better,” Yoongi said, voice full of something Jimin couldn't detect.

The younger gulped and shifted gears as he accelerated once they were on the highway. Jimin knew that wasn't a good idea. Yoongi shouldn't know what actually goes on in his life. First, it was dangerous. Involving his hyung in this kind of thing could lead to potential danger, yet he felt the aching urge to say yes. He needed someone to know the full story of his life, he needed someone to share his burden with. Was that selfish? Maybe it was, but to think Yoongi actually wanted to know about him made Jimin’s fist clench in anticipation.

“What if you don't like the real me?” Jimin intoned softly. This was his real fear- that Yoongi would be repulsed when he found out that Jimin was so fucking dirty.

Yoongi kept his eyes on Jimin’s nervous figure, not saying anything for a rather long stretch of time. The older looked so ethereal in that white suit, the black designs on his skin clashing wonderfully with the formal dress. He looked so soft and pale, fragile and thin. Jimin wanted to reach out and just touch him.

“I don't think that could ever happen,” Yoongi said evenly, turning to glance out the window.

“I will never bring you into XTC,” Jimin said.

“I didn't say I wanted to join XTC,” he replied. “I said I want to know you. All of you, not just the good sides. I want to who you are because from what I hear, people respect you and yet I have no clue why. You’re Park fucking Jimin, apparently Seoul’s greatest sniper, but I don't see that when I look at you.”

“What do you see?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I need to know you before I can see you.”

 

-

 

There were cameras, and Yoongi wasn't expecting that. He could see the bright lightning-like flashing even from the back of the line. Tons of expensive cars were in an organized line, slowly moving towards the front entrance where they could climb out of the car and get bombarded with the press. Yoongi’s eyes were wide as he stared out the window at the sea of people on the front steps of the huge marble building, behind thick red ropes. There was a narrow passageway where the guests of the gala could walk through between the people.

“What is this?” Yoongi gasped nervously. “Will I have to walk through that?”

“You’ll be safe, don't worry,” Jimin reminded quickly. “Don't make eye contact with any of them, and don't smile.” Yoongi didn't know why he shouldn't smile, but he nodded right away. “They might try to talk to you, don't say anything.”

“Do the press know you’re a sniper?” he asked.

“Some have their suspicions, but tonight I'm attending the gala as a businessman,” Jimin explained. “They’ll ask some questions; let me handle those.”

“I don't think I can do this,” Yoongi breathed shakily as he nervously eyed the ever-growing wave of reporters.

“You’ll be fine,” Jimin assured softly. “Do me a favor, yeah?”

“What is it?”

“Act like a rich bastard,” he said.

Yoongi glanced over at Jimin, who had accelerated just the slightest as the line started moving again. “Why?”

“You said you want to know what it feels like to be dirty,” Jimin said, meeting Yoongi’s anxious eyes. “Act like a rich bastard, you’ll attract rich bastards at this gala. Then you’ll see what I'm talking about.”

“I don't think I know how to act like a rich bastard?” Yoongi stalled.

“Follow my lead,” Jimin said as a smirk overlook his once soft features. “I've been doing this for years.”

Yoongi swallowed; they were getting closer to the front. Jimin seemed to notice his nervous state and placed a warm hand on Yoongi’s leg. The older stilled at his action, fidgeting fingers becoming lax as he sunk into the seat with a sharp exhale. Jimin rubbed his thumb back and forth across the white fabric of Yoongi’s pants, saying, “You’ll be fine.”

“Fingers crossed,” Yoongi mumbled, leaning his head back and groaning.

Jimin turned to back to the road and stepped on the gas pedal, stopping right in front of the marble steps. “Let's go,” he said, unbuckling his own seat belt and opening the car door. Yoongi followed his actions with shaking fingers, fumbling with the car door and trying his best to step elegantly out of the Porsche. Jimin walked around the car and took Yoongi by the arm, a rather tight reassuring grip to keep the older grounded. “Chin up,” he reminded in a low voice, a dignified frown taking over his usually cheerful face. “Don't smile.”

The valet drove the Porsche into parking, and Yoongi now had nowhere to go back to. He could only go forward, and he really had no choice because Jimin was steering him into the narrow passageway between the press. Like splitting the Red Sea. Everyone seemed alarmed at their presence, and the cameras flashed like lightning as they walked up the steps arm in arm. Maybe it was because Yoongi had a shit-ton of tattoos, or maybe it was because they were both men, but the crowd became progressively louder.

“Mr. Park!” one reporter called, “Who do you have with you? Is he a gang member?”

Yoongi gulped at this, trying his best not to show any sign of disturbance or emotion. Jimin stopped walking, halting the older along with him. The shutter of the cameras was overwhelming, making it so that Jimin had to yell to be heard. “No gang members here.”

That earned a few laughs from the crowd, probably either the ones who knew he was in a mafia or the ones who were confused at the inside joke but didn't want to look left out. The lady obviously didn't get the hidden meaning and continued with the questions. “Is this man your date?” Her tone was quite judgemental, making Yoongi cringe. This had been a bad idea.

“Yes. Is there a problem?” Jimin decided he was bored with the interview and steered Yoongi back on track and up the steps. “You’re doing great,” he whispered so only Yoongi could he hear.

At this point, the older thought he might pass out from the bright flashing lights and loud noise, but Jimin kept a firm hand on his elbow and helped him up the steps. The building was a huge marble theatre, a greek design with colossal pillars and a frieze. He could see golden lights filtering out of the huge open doors and reflecting off the smooth white marble of the steps. There were so many people Yoongi couldn't focus on just one, but he was pretty sure he just saw a kpop idol walk through the doors.

“Mr. Park! It’s rumored you were seen working in a strip club! Is that true?” It was the same damn lady, following them like a puppy.

“Do you believe everything you hear?” Jimin retorted smoothly, not even looking over to find the voice, but his fingers clenched a little harder around Yoongi’s elbow. When they made it to the huge glass doorway a suited man bowed deeply and wished them a good evening. They walked into the ballroom, a huge golden tinted room packed full of important people. There was a huge double staircase curling along the wall, and when Yoongi looked up to where the two stairs met, he saw a familiar man standing confidently on the balcony. That was the man who came into his parlor asking for an Ecstasy tattoo. The same prominent shoulders and pouty lips, and the same tall figure.

“Jimin, who is that?” Yoongi didn't need to point or clarify who he was talking about because Jimin had his own eyes stuck on the same person.

“Mr. Kim, head of XTC.”

“He came into my parlor the other day.”

Jimin froze in place and his head whipped around to lay his saucer-like eyes on Yoongi. “What did you say?”

Yoongi didn't have a chance to respond because a man and woman were walking up to them, and the man definitely looked like he had something to say. He was an ugly guy with thin grey hair and small beady eyes. His lips were thin and pale, and there was a scar on his forehead from what looked to be stitches. He could only be about 40, but he looked too old and Yoongi assumed that's what working for XTC looked like. “Park Fucking Jimin,” the guy greeted rather mockingly, throwing his arms out wide as if he wanted a hug. The woman next to him looked uncomfortable as she shifted awkwardly in her evening gown. “What's a bastard like you doing at a gala?”

Jimin sighed. Ahn Junhoe was always on edge; always trying to beat people back into their place with his harsh words. Junhoe was Kim’s right-hand man, and Jimin knew very well he would have to kill the older man if he ever wanted to get out of XTC. This kept him motivated, and if things went well Jimin would only have to bear the man for another year or so. “Is there something wrong?” Jimin asked, mockingly innocent as he cocked his head towards Junhoe. “I wouldn't have been let in unless I was allowed.”

“A dirty sniper like you could get into one of these events if you flashed the bouncer a gun, isn't that right, Jimin?”

“Junhoe.” The young woman on his arm shot him a dark glare before turning back to Jimin and Yoongi and smiling apologetically. “I'm sorry, my name is Min Hana.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jimin said politely, and Yoongi ducked his head along with Jimin in a bow. “I'm Park Jimin, and this is Min Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you,” he greeted. Yoongi’s words were directed at the woman, he didn't even spare the other man a glance, which seemed to irk Junhoe but please Jimin from the way his thumb rubbed along his elbow in an encouraging manner that assured him he was doing a good job.

“Min Yoongi, huh?” Junhoe intoned slowly as he quirked a brow. “How do you know our precious Jimin?”

Jimin seemed bristled at this comment. Our precious Jimin. Isn't that what he was always seen as to XTC? A pet? A simple-minded worker that followed orders like a dog? A little toy they could mess with because he didn't have the power to kill them yet? He might not have the power yet, but he was slowly getting there, and he was going to make everyone who messed with him pay. Especially Junhoe.

“A friend,” Yoongi answered rather curtly. Jimin was extremely satisfied when Junhoe’s mouth fell into a tight frown at Yoongi’s answer, or rather lack of.

“A friend? So you decided to join a faggot at a gala and you’re just a friend? Usually, Jimin will bring a woman to an event. Although, he doesn't get invited to many anyway.”

Yoongi had to take a deep breath so he wouldn't act rashly. Jimin let go of Yoongi elbow and said, “That's enough, Junhoe.” The older man’s lips curled at the lack of honorifics.

“Mr. Min,” Hana said suddenly. “Would you like to grab drinks with me? We’ll leave those two to work out their differences, yeah?”

Yoongi glanced over at Jimin, who gave him a little nod. He walked with Hana to the beverage table to get them all drinks. “Are they okay to be left alone?” Yoongi asked the woman, glancing back nervously.

“They’ll be fine. Junhoe won't start anything at such a public event.” She grabbed two flutes of champagne and took a tiny sip from one. “I would like to apologize for his rash behavior. I think Junhoe feels threatened by your date.”

Yoongi grabbed himself a flute and knocked it back. Perhaps it looked a little desperate and un-classy, but Yoongi didn't care because nobody except Hana was watching him.

“Why would he feel threatened?” Yoongi asked as a suited man whisked his empty glass away. Hana said she didn't know and then asked him if he worked for XTC. “No, I really am just a friend of Jimin’s.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” she asked. “Knowing he works for a mafia?”

“No,” Yoongi answered quickly, a thoughtful tone taking over his voice. “No, I feel safe around him. What about you, how do you know Junhoe?”

“I'm his new bitch,” she answered with a tired laugh. Yoongi didn't understand, so she tried her best to explain. “I work for XTC as a prostitute.”

“Oh.” Yoongi was surprised at how incredibly shameless she sounded. He decided he wanted that kind of confidence and self-love. “Isn't that scary?”

She looked away in thought, twirling the champagne flute between her fingers. “Sometimes.” She looked back at him with a small smile. “You’re a nice kid. How’d you end up with a sniper?”

Yoongi grabbed another glass to take to Jimin, and they started walking back to their dates. “I dunno, really. I tattooed him.”

“You’re a tattoo artist?” she asked, interest seemingly peeked at this new fact.

“Yeah, as you can tell,” he chuckled, motioning to his inked body.

“That's really cool,” she mused, ducking around a couple who were talking animatedly to a group of semi-interested people. “My big brother wanted to be a tattoo artist, but back then you needed a doctor's license.”

“Does he know you work for a mafia?” Yoongi asked. He had to raise his voice to be heard over all the people. (And- hold on- was that Sunmi he just saw?)

“No, none of my family does,” she answered with a rather smug look like she had just gotten away with murder. “And I plan to keep it that way. I don't imagine they would be okay with my… choice in career.”

They arrived back to Jimin and Junhoe, who had seemed to have a verbal battle while they were gone because Jimin was looking pretty smug as he watched Junhoe stumbling over his words. “I-I didn't- I mean, I was so young I didn't know… wait-”

“Thank you, hyung,” Jimin said, reaching out to grab the flute from Yoongi and effectively cutting the man off. “You don't want any champagne, Yoongi hyung?”

“He knocked back a whole glass back there,” Hana said, pointing a finger to the beverage table. Yoongi chuckled in embarrassment and scratched the back of his head.

“I have some business to attend to,” Junhoe said curtly. “Let's go, Hana.”

“Nice meeting you guys,” she waved with a wide smile, turning to follow Junhoe.

When they were out of sight Jimin turned to Yoongi with an open mouth and nervous eyes. “Jimin? What's wrong? Who was that bitch Junhoe?”

“We need to talk later,” he said, reaching behind his suit jacket and bringing out a small black box, flicking the button off. Yoongi hadn't seen him put it on. “We can't talk now, I have a wire on me recording everything people say, but we need to talk about why Mr. Kim visited your parlor.”

“Okay. Later.”

“You’re doing great, by the way,” Jimin praised softly.

“They’re like… pop stars here, Jimin.”

“I know, hyung,” he smiled, turning the recording box back on and clipping it to the back of his belt. He looked back up to the balcony where Mr. Kim was talking to another man. “I need to keep Mr. Kim in my sight at all times and walk around and talk to people. Are you okay to stay with me?”

“Yeah, I think I know what to do now,” Yoongi nodded. “I got the rich bastard thing down I think.”

“You had a great example,” Jimin muttered, referring to Junhoe.

Who was that man? Yoongi wondered. Who did he think he was calling Jimin a faggot? The idea of Jimin being made fun of made Yoongi’s blood boil. He would have to wait until after the gala to get his answers about Junhoe.

The whole night they walked around the large ballroom, talking to rich entrepreneurs and idols (Yoongi was trying to suppress an excited giggle when he met Jay Park), and eventually, a man climbed onto the huge stage and tapped the mic to get everyone’s attention. They sat down at one of the many tables near the back, sipping on flutes of champagne and watching the stage. A powerpoint was displayed on malnutritious children in foreign countries, and Jimin seemed to get a little antsy waiting for the presentation to end. Yoongi had always been a sucker for this kind of thing- wanting to throw wads of money he didn't even have at a charity after looking at sad children- but he knew this charity, in particular, wasn't the real reason anyone was at this gala. Nobody cared about these children, or the pictures of them with bloated bellies and missing teeth. It made Yoongi sick to watch these people gasp dramatically or fake a depressed sigh when a particularly heart-wrenching picture came on screen. These people didn't care- who did they think they were? They didn't know what it was like to live off the streets and scavenger around for food, not knowing when your next meal would be. Yoongi didn't know what it was like, either, but at least he had some real sympathy and he wasn't just doing it for the cameras.

This is the definition of a rich bastard, Yoongi thought. These people were selfish, all they cared about were themselves and their bank accounts. Yoongi wanted to smash his champagne glass against the clothed table when the donation plate was passed around and almost everyone looked around before slipping in a check to make sure the cameras caught their ‘good deed’. When the donation plate got to Yoongi, Jimin took it quickly from his hands and passed it on to the next person. “It's a scam,” Jimin said under his breath. “The money is going elsewhere.”

Yoongi’s head snapped up to look at Jimin, eyes narrowed. “That's illegal,” he said quietly, as to not draw the attention of any unsuspecting donors.

“I know, hyung.”

“Where is it going?” Yoongi asked, glancing back towards the stage where the pudgy man who had presented the slideshow now stood with his hands folded in front of his stomach and was bouncing on the balls of his feet, no doubtedly at the sight of so many generous givers. It gave Yoongi a bad taste in his mouth.

“I dunno. I think it's going to different gangs and mafias to keep them on the press’ good side.”

“That's sick,” Yoongi said.

“I know,” Jimin sighed. “There’s nothing we can do, though.”

Yoongi wondered how much of that money was going directly into XTC’s wallet. He also wondered how many donors knew it, too. Would someone still donate money just to be seen as a ‘good’ person by the public even if they knew the money was going to an illegal organization that killed people and held sex workers? Yoongi assumed the answer was yes, or at least, that's what the piles of money in the plate told him.

People slowly started to get up from their seats, returning back to the main floor and talking among their friends, the starving children easily forgotten as they downed more champagne.

-

 

Mr. Kim finally came down from the balcony, so Jimin and Yoongi had to talk to people and keep the man in their sight at the same time. Yoongi guessed Jimin was trying his best to get blackmail from the guests if his rather obvious questions were any indicator.

“Do you know who that guy is?” Jimin asked the man he was currently holding conversation with, discreetly motioning to Mr. Kim who was across the ballroom sipping gingerly on his glass of wine.

The older man nodded, unsuspecting of Jimin’s position in the mafia itself. “You’re referring to Mr Kim?”

“Is that his name?” Jimin questioned innocently. “What do you know about him?”  
The guy shrugged. His eyes had been glued to Yoongi’s tattoos since they walked up, and Yoongi wondered if the man thought he was in a gang. If he did think that, the guy might be a little hesitant to share information, thought Yoongi.

“I'm a tattoo artist,” Yoongi blurted. He didn't want to throw off Jimin’s blackmail.

The guy visibly relaxed, and a calm smile tugged at his lips. “Ah, I was wondering about that. Mr Kim, you asked?”

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded, sparing an impressed glance at Yoongi, who had his eyes glued to the older guy, obviously holding as much anticipation as Jimin did himself. He had been too caught up in the situation to think Yoongi’s tattoos may have an effect on the man’s answers on Mr Kim.

“I don't know much about him,” the man shrugged again. “I've heard he works for gang.”

“A gang?” Yoongi asked, eyes mockingly wide. He really liked playing this game.

“Yeah. Don't quote me on this, but I also heard he runs a pornography website.”

Now that was news to Yoongi. He wondered if it was actually true, or just another rumor like the guy said. He peeked over at Jimin to gauge his reaction, but the younger kept up his wonderful facade and faked a scandalized gasp. Yoongi had to remind himself Jimin was still in college, yet here he was at a gala digging blackmail out of some rich idiot, keeping a perfect mask even when the man mentioned suspected pornography. Jimin was too young, wasn't he? He was too young to be subjected to such sensitive topics, and Yoongi thought he was too innocent to be conning a man for information to support a mafia. It just felt… wrong. Dirty.

“Really? How do you know?” Jimin asked.

“I heard the police were trying to bust a porn website last month. I don't think they found it, it must have been pretty deep in the web.”

“Wow,” Jimin breathed. Maybe the younger didn't know about this, Yoongi wondered. “That's pretty risky, don't you think?”

“Yeah, it's an easy way to go to jail,” he chuckled heartily. “That, and having a condom full of cocaine shoved up your ass.” He laughed again, throwing his head back so Yoongi could see the veins straining against his neck.

He could tell Jimin finally caught scent of something good because he made a sound of genuine surprise before asking, “What does that mean?”

“What, you haven't heard?” he asked, looking rather surprised himself. When Jimin told him he hadn't caught word, the man laughed again. “A mule was busted yesterday coming in from America. He had a whole condom up his ass, full of cocaine.”

“What?” Jimin asked in disbelief. “Who did he work for?”

The guy shrugged yet again. “Dunno. I heard another drug mentioned- Ecstasy- but I don't think the mule was carrying any.”

Jimin finally put the puzzle pieces together, and now he had more information than he would ever need.

Someone in XTC was betraying them.

In the latest meeting, Mr Kim had banned the importation of cocaine because he wanted prices to rise. Jimin knew the head of cocaine importation had stopped all traffic into Korea because Jisu mentioned sometime last week that she canceled all the flights for the mules landing in Seoul. Someone from XTC must have broken away and brought the cocaine into Korea anyway, maybe to make money off of it himself and hold the proceeds from the mafia. It was a stupid thing to do, Jimin thought. You don't get away with leaving the mafia, he knew that. He had learned the hard way, and he knew this guy was going to suffer a lot worse for treason- death.

“Wow, that's really terrible, sir,” Jimin said, trying to keep the knowing look off his face. “It's been nice talking to you, but I'm afraid we have to go.” Jimin sent a look over to Yoongi, and they both walked quickly away from the confused guy.

Yoongi thought the guy was an idiot for sharing so much information, especially to people he didn't know. He must have been drunk; people who have the power to attend these types of events usually don't keep a loose tongue. Yes, he must have been drunk.

“What was that about?” Yoongi asked lowly, following Jimin who seemed to be following Mr Kim.

“I just hit a gold mine,” Jimin muttered, voice calculating. “I just hit a fucking gold mine - oh man, this is great.”

“It is?” Yoongi could admit he was feeling a little left out. Jimin seemed like he just figured out the secrets of the universe and he knew nothing about it.

“Yeah, I hope it is.” Jimin motioned to the recording pack on his belt underneath his jacket, reminding Yoongi that while he couldn't explain the situation to him right now, he would later. Yoongi nodded and felt a little better.

 

-

 

Jimin and Yoongi were huddled on the bottom steps, breathing frozen puffs into the winter air. They were waiting for the valet to bring the Porsche around so they could leave the gala, and right now that's all Yoongi wanted to do. He was a natural introvert- people and parties just drained him- but being around conceded idiots was just another stack on the load. He felt tired and unfocused, and was even a little snappy with one of the servers offering him an orderve. Jimin looked at him with a worried expression when he almost cussed him out, the poor boy turning around with his giant serving plate faster than you could say ‘appetizer’.

So now they were on the marble steps, both a little drained and irritable. Yoongi knew once he got in the heated car he would feel a little better. Jimin still hadn't turned off his audio recorder, and Yoongi wondered if it was because the younger didn't want to explain everything just yet. He could understand to some extent, he hated telling people about his life, too. Unless it was inked on his body, you wouldn't know about it.

Seeing the head of XTC gave Yoongi the shivers. He was the man who had come into his studio and requested a mafia tattoo. Yoongi didn't know much about gangs, but he knew that the boss of one usually didn't walk into a random parlor unless they really trusted the person. And what family members recommended him to Kim? He didn't know anyone besides Taehyung and Jimin who were in a mafia, but yet Kim’s lips looked familiar somehow…

The black car finally rolled up to meet them, and the valet stumbled out and bowed at them before scurrying back to the parking deck. The two men climbed into the car wordlessly, the events of the night being enough to keep them distracted within their own minds- Jimin thinking about a drug bust, and Yoongi about how fucking familiar Mr Kim looked. The ride back to Seoul stayed relatively quiet, but there were a few lingering glances when the car halted at a particularly long stoplight. Jimin shifted in his seat, keeping an eye on the red light, and unclipped the audio pack from his belt, flicking it off and dropping in unceremoniously into the cupholder with a loud sigh.

“Thank you, hyung,” Jimin breathed, relaxing against the seat now that the audio recorder was shut off. “I know that wasn't easy, but you did a really good job.”

Yoongi only nodded, unsure how to respond. Was he supposed to say ‘thank you’? Was he even supposed to feel good about helping Jimin conn a man out of information? Was he supposed to feel good after watching people pretend to care about the poor and then go about with their night as if nothing had happened? Because he didn't. He felt too drained to even give a polite answer. “Fucking hell,” is all he said in response. Jimin deserved a polite answer, of course, it wasn't his fault he had to attend one of these events. Jimin was sweet and nice… wasn't he? Yoongi wasn't actually sure who Jimin was anymore. It seemed like the younger’s personality changed all the time- from a sweet art student to a confident rich sniper in a matter of seconds. He didn't know which one Jimin was, or if he was any. Maybe the younger wasn't either; maybe he was just an empty eggshell. Nevermind, that sounded weird to Yoongi. Jimin wasn't an empty eggshell, he had his own personality- Yoongi just needed to find it.

“Umm, are you okay?” Jimin asked, worry lacing his voice.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I'm sorry, hyung.”

Yoongi looked over at the nervous boy. Jimin had the steering wheel in a deadly grip, his knuckles turning white. He must be angry, Yoongi thought. But what would he be angry at? Maybe at Yoongi? At himself?

“What are you sorry for?” Yoongi thought he sounded a little like his mom. When his brother came crying to mommy all those years ago because Yoongi had pushed him onto the ground once again, she would sit both boys across from each other and make Yoongi apologize. ‘Sorry,’ Yoongi would say, unconvicted at bored at the quite frequent situation. ‘What are you sorry for?’ she would ask, also equally bored because this was a regular occurrence between the brothers. Her tone was all knowing a slightly condescending, telling Yoongi that she already knew the goddamn answer, he just needed to say it. Sometimes Yoongi would pretend not to know the answer, and apologize for stupid things. ‘Sorry for feeding Holly table food,’ or, ‘Sorry for your marriage’. That last one really irked her, and earned him a slap across the face that turned his cheek a pretty red color.

“For asking you to come,” Jimin said.

“I agreed to it, didn't I?” Yoongi shrugged. “I don't regret it, either.” That was only half untrue. He wouldn't have minded missing out on tonight’s rather angering events, but Jimin didn't need to know that. And besides, Yoongi could tell he needed someone to be with him tonight, and Yoongi was the only obvious and safe answer.

“You don't? I thought you would be mad at me.” Jimin’s voice was unsure and innocent, like a son awaiting his mother’s punishment.

“I'm not mad at you,” he assured quickly. “You aren't like the people there, I know that.” He paused, glancing out the window at the buildings that sped by. It was night, which meant the neon signs and billboards were starting to flicker on, and the light was almost blinding to Yoongi’s eyes. He watched as a Samsung sign lit up from across the street, casting a large blue oval onto the sidewalk. “I'm just feeling… weird.”

“Yeah.” Jimin flicked the blinker on and switched lanes. “I know what you mean.”

“And confused,” he added.

Jimin looked over at Yoongi when he heard this. “I can tell you everything if you’re sure.”

“I thought you had told me everything at the cafe,” Yoongi chuckled humorlessly. “Apparently I was wrong.” Jimin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes flicking back to the road. “Did you know about the pornography?”

Jimin hesitated. “Yeah, I had heard about it.” Yoongi didn't say anything in response, after a long moment Jimin spoke again. “You said Mr Kim came into your studio. What’s that about?”

“...He wanted a tattoo.” Yoongi wondered if he should be saying this.

“A tattoo?”

“Uhm, like, a gang tattoo.” Jimin’s face dropped, and he gripped the steering wheel impossibly harder. “He didn't get one, he just wanted me to design it.”

“And you did it?”

“Well, yeah, I'm not allowed to turn down a customer unless I have legal reasons.”

“And being in a mafia isn't illegal enough?” Jimin snapped. Yoongi reeled back. He hadn't expected Jimin to react like that at all. Was this another one of Jimin’s personalities? Snappy?

“I didn't know he was in a mafia,” Yoongi hissed. How was he supposed to know? It's not like Jimin had told him.

After a very long and awkward silence, Jimin muttered, “Sorry.” And then again, “Sorry.”

Yoongi didn't respond but rather turned to glare out the window at those too-bright signs.

“I'm sorry,” he said once again, voice so completely apologetic Yoongi had no room to doubt his sincerity. “I just have a lot on my mind. Not that I should be making excuses.”

Yoongi only hummed, at least giving Jimin a sign that he wasn't completely ignoring the younger.

“Um, what was the tattoo, anyway?” he asked timidly like he knew he had messed up. He was obviously trying to make amends with Yoongi, now.

“Ecstasy pill,” he answered flatly, still not in the mood to talk. “It's simple Small. Nothing to worry about. I could tattoo it between your ass so you never have to look at it.”

Jimin let out a subdued chuckle as if making a loud sound would make Yoongi angry again. “Um, I was going to take you back to my apartment, but I understand if you just want me to take you home.”

Yoongi froze. He wondered if Jimin still had his address from the time they went to the penthouse party. Probably not. The truth was, Yoongi wouldn't mind going back to his apartment tonight. It was a Saturday after all, and he didn't have work tomorrow. He could stay up late. “I think I deserve some answers about all this,” Yoongi said. “Besides, I left my clothes at your apartment.”

Jimin took this as a ‘yes’ and continued on his current route. “I have ice cream and soju,” he said with a tiny shrug.

Yoongi liked that very much; he wouldn't mind getting a little drunk tonight, just to temporarily relieve his heavy mind.

 

-

 

As they walked into the apartment lobby, the same receptionist greeted them with a knowing look, and Yoongi wondered how many guys had come through the door with Jimin as their partner for the night. He shook the thought off and walked into the elevator. They both looked so formal in their suits, Yoongi mused as he stared at their reflections. Like rich bastards.

Jimin typed in the number code on his red apartment door and it opened will a soft click. As soon as they walked through the door, both men were loosening their constricting ties and tugging them off. Jimin went to his room to get changed and told Yoongi to wait before he got undressed. When the younger came out in comfy clothes, he threw Yoongi a pair of sweatpants, remembering that he wore jeans to the apartment. Yoongi slipped behind the divider and changed quickly, tugging on the slightly big sweatpants and pulling on his t-shirt. He hung the white suit back up and left it hanging on the divider. He quickly texted Namjoon to let him know he wouldn't be home until later.

Jimin was sprawled out on the chaise lounge, waiting for Yoongi to finish up. He looked a lot calmer than he did at the gala, grey joggers riding up his leg and the too-large black t-shirt hanging off his delicate body. His eyes still looked a little overused and milky, not focusing on anything in particular. When he saw Yoongi had put his phone down on the glass coffee table with a sigh, he pushed off the sofa and padded into the kitchen to grab the ice cream and soju. It was silent when Jimin dropped the bottle right into Yoongi’s lap and sat down on the opposite couch with the carton of ice cream and a spoon. He ripped off the lid and starting shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth eagerly.

“Slow down, there,” Yoongi suggested with a small smile. “You’ll get sick.”

“Don't care,” Jimin muttered through a mouthful of ice cream. Yoongi didn't know what to say about that, so he popped the cap off the soju and tilted the bottle back because Jimin didn't provide glasses, and Yoongi thought he knew why. They were both desperate at this point. Jimin needed the alcohol to loosen his tongue, and Yoongi needed it to relieve his burden of worrying about the younger like a hyung’s supposed to do. It was a silently mutual agreement to get wasted, and hopefully, forget everything in the morning.

After a few minutes, they swapped, and Jimin threw the bottle back, trying his hardest to get drunk as fast as he could. Yoongi munched on the ice cream as he watched the younger’s desperate attempt. It almost pained him to watch Jimin acting like this. The kid, after all, was obviously in pain himself.

Once Jimin had downed half the bottle, he finally started talking. He told Yoongi about the order to keep cocaine out of Seoul, and he told him about the sniping job he was ordered to carry out this week in order to keep Numbers under control. He told him about the suspected pornography studio Mr Kim ran inside his own home and told him about Jisu breaking Number’s firewall to expose them and maybe even bring their gang crashing down. Jimin told Yoongi about his extensive plan to rank high enough on XTC’s social ladder in order to escape the mafia and finally live the life of a normal college student. He was so close, yet so far at the same time. If he managed to get on Kim’s good side, he could eventually get the information he needed and give it to the police. Of course, if he just handed the police all the information they needed to bust the biggest mafia in Seoul, Jimin would fall with it. He would need to bribe the police. ‘I’ll give you information if you promise to keep me safe from the law’. Or something like that. Jimin only hoped his plan would work.

Yoongi seemed pretty worried about the idea of Jimin snuggling up to Mr Kim. It was dangerous, that much was evident to both of them. If you screw up and nobody knows your name, you’re off the hook. On the other hand, when you’re close with the boss and make even a minor mistake, that could result very badly- like as in death.

“I wish I could just…” Yoongi fizzled out, alcohol doing a little more to his thought process than he would like. “Get you out.”

“Me too,” Jimin remarked. He was hanging upside down on the red couch, silver hair almost brushing the marble floor. “But there’s nothing anyone can do right now.” The blood was rushing to his head, turning his face a rather concerning red color, but he seemed oblivious to the discomfort. “I just have to keep taking all the jobs I can get.”

“Like… sniping jobs?” Yoongi asked.

“Yeah,” Jimin mumbled.

“When did you say the next one was?”

“Wednesday. It's a lot of people, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Innocent people?” Yoongi questioned after a long silence.

“No,” he assured quickly. “No, these people killed a bunch of XTC’s men last month.”

Yoongi thought that made it a little better. Well, maybe. Was killing ever really justified? Yoongi didn't know himself, but he guessed the answer was no.

Jimin handed the bottle back to Yoongi. The ice cream was long gone and the carton was sitting forgotten on the table, but they still had about an inch of soju left and the older male downed it within seconds.

“It's getting late,” Jimin commented, shifting to sit upright. “You’re too drunk to go home. You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No,” Yoongi slurred, eyes drooping from the sleepiness. “I’ll take the couch.” In case Jimin was going to be stubborn about it, Yoongi curled himself into a ball and closed his eyes, knowing the younger wouldn't have the heart to move him. Jimin groaned but padded to his room and came back out with a pillow and fluffy baby-blue throw. He draped it over Yoongi’s small body and wished him a good night. Yoongi only murmured a half-assed response as his eyes fluttered closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

 

-

 

Yoongi’s brain was being split open. He groaned and sat up on the couch, head throbbing like a pulse. It took him a good minute to remember where he was: Jimin’s couch. The sunlight filtered through the huge windows, and it looked to be pretty late in the morning from the position of the sun. Yoongi groaned again and looked around the apartment. It was silent save for the hum of the refrigerator. On the coffee table across from him, there was a glass of water, a pill, and a note. He threw back the pill and gulped down the water before looking at the note.

 

_Hyung,_  
_I'm at work rn, but make yourself at home. I didn't make breakfast but there’s cereal in the pantry. Text me~_  
_-Jimin_

 

Jimin was at work? What was he doing? Was he shooting someone right now as Yoongi sat on his comfy couch? He shook off the thought and tried to stand up, wobbling around a bit as he stretched his back. Hangovers were nasty beasts, he thought gloomily.

Yoongi peeled off the sweatpants and changed back into his jeans, then folded Jimin’s note and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He made sure to fold up the blanket and lay the pillow nicely on top of the pile before grabbing his keys and walking out of Jimin’s expensive apartment. The glossy red door shut with a soft click and soon he was shuffling into the elevator. The display on his phone said it was 10:30, and Yoongi almost had a panic attack because he was late for work, but then he remembered it was a Sunday and breathed out a sigh of relief. His head was still pounding as he walked into the lobby, and the same lady as yesterday greeted him with a warm smile. “Mr Park left an hour ago, sir,” she said, glancing down at his tattooed neck.

Yoongi burned red and rubbed at his neck as if he could wipe the tattoos off like chalk on a chalkboard. “Yeah, when he gets back can you tell him thank you for me?”

“Of course, sir. Have a good day.”

Yoongi left the apartment building and caught the nearest subway. Riding the subway was a nice and sometimes amusing experience because Koreans tended to be wary of tattooed people, thinking most of them were criminals. It was funny watching people’s eyes widen when they landed on Yoongi and then dart away as if they had been caught watching porn. People would try their best to subtly shuffle away or outright stand up from their seats and find a new one, this time with more distance from the suspected thug. Sometimes when he was going through an episode of depression he would feel self-conscious and embarrassed at their reactions, but most of the time it simply amused him to watch old women grip their bags a little closer to their bodies and shoot nervous glances in his direction.

On this particular morning, a young woman was the one nervously curling into herself as he plopped down carelessly on the plastic seat next to her. He didn't exactly like intimidating people, but there were no more seats left in the crowded subway so he had no choice. Yoongi took out his phone in an attempt to appear normal and not scare the girl away. Jimin told him to text him, after all.

 

 **Yoongi:** just left ur apartment i'm on the subway

 **Yoongi:** thx for letting me crash there

 

It was a few minutes before his phone pinged with a notification.

 

 **ChimChim:** No problem hyung :))

 **ChimChim:** I hope u slept well

 **Yoongi:** you have a fukin nice couch

 **ChimChim** : haha only the best

 **ChimChim:** my hangover was prob worse tho

 **Yoongi:** not surprised u downed like the whole bottle

 **ChimChim:** *_*

 **ChimChim:** big mistake tbh

 **ChimChim:** still can't see straight :(

 

Yoongi was tempted to ask him what he was doing at work, but good sense won over and he decided on just saying:

 

 **Yoongi:** feel better

 **Yoongi:** gtg this is my stop

 **ChimChim:** ok hyung~

 **ChimChim:** tell TaeTae I said hello tomorrow ;)) Give him a big kiss for me

 **Yoongi:** gross

 **ChimChim:** We’ll talk later germ-boy

Yoongi locked his phone with a quiet chuckle, which seemed to freak that girl out because she squealed and jumped in her seat. He had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. The subway doors opened with an ugly screech- metal rubbing against metal wasn't one of Yoongi’s fetishes (leather is debatable)- and he walked out into Seoul’s cool air.

People whizzed by like a mist- some in suits and some in their Sunday best- but Yoongi felt like he was moving in slow motion, and it wasn't just thanks to the hangover. Jimin’s working condition had become impossibly worse than Yoongi imagined in the first place. I mean, a whole XTC porn industry. That was incredibly illegal and could get everyone involved a very long sentence to federal prison. Yoongi was once again reminded that even if Jimin managed to escape that shit-hole, there would be consequences for him. He was a sniper, and however amazing a person he was, that fact just couldn't be ignored, especially by the police. He had the title of ‘Seoul’s Greatest Sharpshooter’; That wouldn't go unnoticed by the police.

Yoongi just wanted to protect him, yet it seemed like there was absolutely nothing he could do.

 

-

**Jiminie** _[11:46 am]_

 

 **GucciBoy:** Jimin

 **GucciBoy:** Can you come over?

 **GucciBoy:** I broke up w lisa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this didn't really quench your Yoonmin thirst... sorry :D
> 
> Let me know in the comments what fluffy stuff you want to happen between the pair in future chapters <3  
> ^^ I promise fluff is coming hehehe


	11. Seeds & Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay in the last chapter I told you all that Yoongi has a leather kink and NoBODY SAID ANYTHING LMAOOOO
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, that's beside the point. This is probs the most important chapter in the whole fic, so hold onto your hats, everyone. And I made it extra long just for you so enjoy this 12k beast <3 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)))

It was practically inevitable. Jimin knew this would happen eventually. Taehyung had forced himself into that relationship with Lisa, and Jimin had a few good guesses as to why. Tae simply wanted a piece of normality in his life. He needed someone to tell him he was a good person and to give him sexual gratification. He had always been the kind of person that felt like they needed to be accepted. Jimin had seen Taehyung in love before, and what he had with Lisa was not love. Jimin had seen Taehyung fall head over heels for a man before, yet he wouldn't admit that he might be gay. Tae was afraid of that label- afraid of what people would think- so he forced himself into a straight relationship.  
Jimin didn't know how to tell the boy it was okay that he didn't like girls. Taehyung was in denial, and nothing he said could drag him out.

“Tae,” Jimin whispered affectionately, carding a hand through his best friend’s hair. They were curled up on the couch together after Taehyung had cried himself into hysteria, then came crashing down. Now he was only sniffling softly, pressing into Jimin’s body. “Can you tell me what happened now?” When Jimin walked through the door after work, Taehyung hadn't even given details but instead threw himself at his best friend and let the tears fall down his cheeks in rivers.

“I-I-I,” he stuttered, letting out a hiccup. “S-She tuh-told me…” he choked on his own scattered breathing and let out a low whine.

“It's okay,” Jimin assured softly, petting the boy’s hair. “It's okay, TaeTae. Slow down.”

It was a full five minutes before Taehyung was choking out his explanation. “She said I-I didn't luh-love her.” He sniffed again, and Jimin reached for the tissue box and pressed a wad into his clammy hand. Jimin knew Lisa wasn't stupid, of course, she would realize Tae wasn't totally invested in the relationship. He had dug this hole for himself, but Jimin couldn't help the wave of compassion that washed over him. Tae was his best friend after all. “And, J-Jimin-ah?” Taehyung garbled.

“Yeah?”

“S-She wuh-wasn't wrong.”

Jimin sighed and hugged him closer. “I know, Taehyungie.” He burst into a new fit of tears at this, breath catching and sputtering every few seconds as he tried to breathe.  
After a while, his tears finally slowed, and he spilled the whole story. Lisa had told Taehyung that he acted like he didn't care about her and that he was too secretive- both which were true on some levels. She had packed up her things and quite literally walked out, leaving Taehyung in the apartment with no time to explain himself. Which was good, Jimin thought, because if he had time to explain, he probably would have told her about XTC, and that would end badly for everyone. After some insisting from Jimin, Taehyung could understand this was for the best, but he did have his doubts.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” he muttered, wiping at his burning eyes.

“What do you mean, Tae?”

“I…” He paused and looked down at his lap. “I don't like sex.”

Jimin was surprised at this. Taehyung had never told him about this before. From what Jimin knew, he had loved sex. When he still roomed with Tae, the boy would bring girls home all the time. He had never told Jimin that he didn't enjoy those one night stands, although the morning after he always looked a little bored and sad to be considered normal. “What?” It was a stupid thing to say, Jimin decided. If Tae was feeling this way, he didn't want to make him ashamed.

Taehyung looked up to meet his eyes, a soft frown tugging his lips down. “I just don't like it. Lisa complained I didn't… love her enough, and that's because I kinda avoided sex.”

“It's okay, Tae,” Jimin assured. “It's normal not to want sex with someone you dislike.”

“No, it's not like that. I haven't thought of having sex with anyone before,” he said. “Like, I don't have… fantasies about people. I don't ever want to have sex.”

“Oh.” Jimin had heard of this before- one of his friends in high school had told him something similar.

“But… I want to be in a relationship. I want someone to love me, I just don't wanna fuck.”

Yeah, Jimin had definitely heard of this before. “That's normal,” he said softly, touching Tae’s arm in a comforting manner. “It's okay, I promise.”

“It is?”

“Have you ever thought you might be asexual?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “Huh? Is that what it's called?”

“Yup. It means you like people but aren't interested in sex.”

“Oh.” He seemed to contemplate this, a blank look coming across his face as he worried his lip. “But… you know I like… like m-men.”

Jimin nodded and smiled warmly. “I know, TaeTae. It's about time you acknowledge it.”

Taehyung grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess you're right.” Suddenly, the frown was back on his face and he said, “Nobody will ever love me.”

“Huh?” What a change in mood. Taehyung was like a pubescent teenager.

“Nobody will like me if they know we won't ever have sex,” he said, worry lacing his voice. His eyes seemed to be pleading with Jimin.

“That's not true, Taehyungie,” he said, pulling his best friend back into a hug. “Who could not love you?”

 

-

 

Jimin hated Tuesdays, although he always tried to look on the bright side. On the bright side, his favorite sandwich shop always had sales on Tuesdays, and so he took his work and sat at the far table in the back with his ham sandwich. He spread out the files across the wood table and took a huge and well-deserved bite of his food. Tomorrow was his sniping job, and even though he had already gone through the profiles and instructions at least 100 times, he still looked them over once more. He didn't have the luxury of messing up right now. The seven faces of the dead XTC members seemed to jump off the page, and the eight Numbers men who were going to be dead by tomorrow seemed to be laughing at him.

The day before the job was always the hardest. He had to look those profile pictures in the face and come to terms that he would see them again, except with a bullet through their heads. The situation with Tae had already left him a little shaken up, but now he had to go and murder a bunch of people. Jimin just had to accept this was going to be a shitty week, and that there was nothing he could do about that. Learning to accept the hard things was the first thing XTC had taught him.

He finished up his sandwich and looked over the set of instructions one final time before slapping the folder shut and throwing away his trash on the way out. He had to get back to the campus where he would sit through another one of Mr. Lee’s sleep-inducing biology lectures. No matter how normal biology class was, Jimin felt anything but normal. As he walked back to the lecture hall it was as if a spotlight had flipped directions and started glaring at him. Suddenly he was seen by every student that walked by, and they saw the gun in his hands, and they were pulling out their phones and calling the police right now-

No, Jimin needed to stop doing this. Nobody was looking at him, and he didn't have a gun in his hand. The police were not after him, and he was completely safe.

But if he was so safe, why did he feel this way?

 

-

 

Yoongi glared at the bottle. Did he really need it? Did this count as another episode of depression or was he just feeling a little sad? The plastic bottle of antidepressants seemed to mock him from where they were sitting on the bathroom counter as if tempting him to knock a few back. He wanted to stop relying on the pills, but did it really matter when he was feeling like this? Who cares about commitment.

He could just get high, of course, but when he came crashing down the depression was always worse than before. So Yoongi gave in and took a single pill. It was Tuesday night- and he had always hated Tuesdays- so he didn't feel too bad about breaking his streak of no-pills. He had deserved it, in a way. Yoongi had agreed to attend a gala and to trust a sniper in the same night. Although, he had always trusted Jimin.

Namjoon knocked on the door and called, “I need to pee, hyung.”

Yoongi sighed and capped the bottle, then tossed it back in the medicine cabinet. “Patience is a virtue, Namjoon.”

“I don't care about virtue,” he whined, pounding on the door. “Now let me in!”

“Okay, okay.” Yoongi threw open the door, whacking Namjoon square in the nose. He groaned and fell to the floor in an exaggerated heap. “Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there.”

“Yeah right,” Namjoon grumbled, picking himself off the floor and shuffling into the bathroom then slamming the door.

There was the ungodly sound of piss hitting the toilet bowl, so Yoongi walked into his room and flopped onto the bed. His thoughts wandered to Jimin; but when didn't they these days? He was a puzzle, and Yoongi needed to solve him. Jimin told him that on Wednesday he was going underground to shoot up Numbers. When he told Yoongi this- lounging drunkenly on the red velvet chaise lounge with blow eyes and a green soju bottle between his legs- he looked uncomfortable and rather distraught. It was obvious he didn't want to kill anyone, but he had been forced into this lifestyle and now there wasn't any room for regret.

Thinking of that Saturday night after the gala brought up a whole lot of… suggestive thoughts. Jimin, for one, looked ethereal and godlike the whole night during the gala in his fitted black suit, but when they got home he looked even better to Yoongi. Jimin looked beautiful spread out on the velvet fabric, wetting his already rosy lips every time he took a sip of soju straight from the bottle. They hadn't bothered to turn any lights on, so the only way they could see was by the glaring lights of the awake city through those huge glass windows. The neon lights from the billboards outside cast beautiful rainbows on the marble floors and Yoongi couldn't help but feel oddly nostalgic at the memory. All he wanted at that moment was to grab Jimin and drag him down on the velvet and litter his neck with marks and never look back, or feel regret, or think about the mafia, or… feel anything but Jimin under him.

Yoongi was well aware his thoughts were getting away with him, but how could they not? Jimin was someone he didn't quite understand, and of course he would be interested in something he couldn't grasp. He was like a mist; just as Yoongi thought he was within reach, Jimin would disappear and Yoongi would be left alone with a mind full of confusing thoughts.

Yoongi groaned and rolled off his bed, then padded to the kitchen and poured himself a drink of water. On the island there was his sketchbook, hiding all his designs and thoughts within those pages. Remembering the tattoo shop, Yoongi had to groan again. Taehyung had come into work on Monday with puffy red eyes and blotchy skin, and when Yoongi asked what’s wrong, the younger just shrugged and walked into his piercing room. Yoongi had tried again today, but Taehyung wasn't budging. He just mumbled something about a girlfriend that Yoongi didn't quite catch, then went to Jungkook’s cafe and gotten coffee. He didn't want to pry into Taehyung’s life, but he did feel a little compassion for the boy, especially after hearing his story. He didn't want Tae to be sad because he was a good kid, and maybe he was a little screwed up, but he was still a good kid. If Jimin thought he deserved the world, then Yoongi didn't have any room to challenge that.

Namjoon appeared in the doorway, rubbing his sore nose dramatically. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to join Jin hyung and me for dinner, but maybe I’ll just take back my invitation…” He smiled coyly and prompted Yoongi to say something with an eyebrow wiggle.

“Why would I want to third wheel?” he asked dryly.

Namjoon’s phone rang with a text notification, and he glanced at the screen before saying, “Because Hobi is coming and you two can third wheel together.”

Yoongi pretended to think the offer over. He didn't have anything else to do, and he would probably just lay in his bed and regret decisions he made seven years ago, so he said, “Sure if you insist,” in the most melodramatic voice he could muster.

Namjoon just rolled his eyes and pushed off the door, calling, “We’re leaving in fifteen, hyung,” as he walked away.

Yoongi dressed in his new white jeans and the koi fish shirt he bought, then slipped into his checkered Vans. He tried his best to comb his birds nest of black hair, but gave up  
after a few minutes and left it messy. Jin came and picked them up in his stylish Mercedes, and this time Namjoon got to sit in the front and Yoongi was banished to the back seat.

“How’s the tattooing going, Yoongi?” Jin asked as the car rolled out of the apartment complex parking deck.

“Good,” he replied, playing with the seatbelt. “My coworker had been a depressed bitch the past few days.”

Namjoon snorted. “Why? What did you say to him this time, hyung?”

“I didn't say anything,” Yoongi said. “He’s just sad for some reason. I've tried asking him why but he doesn't answer me.”

“Give it some time,” Jin said. Yoongi didn't second guess him, Seokjin always gave good advice. “Everyone wants to talk about their problems, he’ll tell you about his sooner or later.”

“You’re so smart, Jin,” Namjoon said, only half sarcastic.

“Why are you impolite to your hyung?” he groaned. “I thought I raised you better.”

“Ew, don't say that,” Namjoon reeled. “That would be incest.”

Before this could escalate any more, Yoongi blurted, “So where are we meeting Hoseok?”

“There’s this nice fried chicken place only a few blocks from the parlor, actually,” Jin said.

“It's called Beads, or Seedes, or some stupid American name like that,” Namjoon shrugged.

“Seeds.” Yoongi had seen that place before on the way to work. It seemed to be quite unpopular, judging from the lack of cars he saw every time he passed “Why are we going there?”

“Hobi likes it,” Namjoon said. “And Jin wanted to try it out.”

Seeds was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in a strip mall, and Jin looked like an idiot parking the Mercedes right next to a pile of stray trash that had gathered along the curb just outside of the diner. Jin looked at the dilapidated building in confusion. The S in Seeds had flickered out, so now it just said ‘EEDS’. “Is this really where Hobi wants to meet?” Jin asked after a long moment of confused silence.

“I mean, this is his style,” Yoongi deadpanned with a little smirk.

“Great,” Jin sighed, popping the door open and climbing out of the car. “Cross our fingers and hope we don't get salmonella.”

They followed Jin through the rusty entrance door, and Yoongi was genuinely surprised when he looked around. It was pretty dark, so his eyes had to adjust before he could make out the secluded wooden tables scattered around the small restaurant. The place was covered in a thin haze of smoke coming from the kitchen, and it smelled amazing. The color of the walls was barely recognizable because there were so many decorative plates covering them. The floors were wood, so rugged and holey it looked like they had just been peeled off the tree and slapped down on the floor. There were only a few people in the restaurant, and they didn't seem to be hurling after taking huge bites of their food, so Yoongi deemed it safe.

They spotted Hoseok at the bar over in the corner talking animatedly with one of the chefs. Yoongi could see the whole kitchen right behind the bar, showing off the few workers who were flipping food on stoves, the sound of sizzling filling the entire restaurant. Hoseok seemed to feel the eyes on him because he turned around and finally saw them. His eyes lit up as he waved them over. “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, Hobi.” Jin still seemed a little confused, but they all slid into the barstools next to them. “How’s it going?”

“Good, hyung. What’s new with you guys? I haven't seen you in forever.”

“I've been busy with work,” Jin shrugged. Something about his voice was a little guilty.

“Guess what Yoongi did?” Namjoon asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“What did I do?” Yoongi asked.

“He went out Saturday night to a bar with a certain someone,” he giggled.

“Ooh! Who was it?” Hoseok squealed.

Yoongi groaned. He had told Namjoon Jimin had invited him out for drinks, and instead showed up at a gala for the rich and famous. He wondered where all those pictures that were taken of Jimin of him were. Hopefully not on the internet where all his family and friends could see.

“Jimin~,” Namjoon sang in a shrill voice.

“Jimin!” Jin gasped. “Why didn't you tell me this before, Joonie?”

Namjoon grinned. “I wanted to tell you in front of Yoongi hyung to embarrass him. Are you embarrassed yet, hyung?”

Yoongi groaned again, and Hoseok pinched his side playfully. “Jiminie, huh? Couldn't control yourself after that dance competition? I made his choreography extra sexy just for you.”  
“And that's not all!” Namjoon blurted. “He spent the night at Jimin’s, too.”

At that, both Jin and Hoseok shrieked. “You what?” Jin gasped, scandalized. “You didn't!”

“Did you fuck?” Hoseok asked bluntly.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi hissed, elbowing his best friend in the ribs. “We did not!”

Jin’s face changed from scandalized to motherly in a matter of seconds as he reprimanded Yoongi. “You slept in his apartment? Why would you do that?”

“Why not?” Yoongi asked, annoyance clear in his voice. “I was drunk.”

“Because that could lead to other things,” Jin exclaimed. Yoongi noticed the chef who had been talking to Hoseok before seemed quite entertained and was shamelessly watching the scene escalate. “And Jiminie is sensitive and innocent, you can't do that to him!”

Yoongi had to hold in his laugh. Jimin? Sensitive and innocent? That's what he thought, too, but Jimin was probably the exact opposite. On the outside, Jimin was all of those things- cute, small, innocent, and sweet, but on the inside, he was holding this unbreakable spirit of formality and power. Yoongi didn't think Jimin could ever even be sarcastic, but he was proved wrong as he listened to the younger talk to the rich bastards at the gala, being subtly smug. There was just a sense of cool confidence radiating off of Jimin. When he broke into Yoongi’s parlor with a gun pointed to a thug’s head, Jimin was powerful. When he conned men out of information the whole night at the gala, he was smug and confident. But, on the other hand, when he was laying across from Yoongi that night with a bottle in his hands, he was unmistakably vulnerable.

“Look, he went silent!” Hoseok observed loudly, jerking Yoongi out of his thoughts.

“We didn't do anything,” Yoongi said again, voice flat and annoyed. “I slept on his couch.”

“And so did Jimin,” Namjoon mumbled, grinning goofily.

“He did not!”

After some more bickering, they finally ordered their food and settled into quiet conversation.

“How’s dance going, Hobi?” Jin asked.

“Awesome!” he beamed, taking a huge bite from the chicken wing. “Jungkookie is entering a competition and I'm helping him choreograph the dance.” After taking another bite he said, “He’s a really sweet kid. I feel bad for him.”

“Why?” Yoongi asked.

“I don't think his parents approve of his lifestyle,” Hoseok shrugged. “He embarrassed about being gay, too. He’s kind of closed off, but once you get to know him he’s really cute and nice.”

They finished up their meal, and in an hour they were walking out of Seeds, now with a new outlook on the restaurant. The fried chicken was one of the best Yoongi had ever had, and he was once again reminded that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

 

-

 

Yoongi checked the time and yawned. He had been working on this tattoo design for three hours now. Something about it just seemed off, and he had to keep erasing and starting over. His client wanted a huge zentangle wolf right smack on her thigh, and he had been struggling over the linework for what seemed like forever. Taehyung was going to be here in thirty minutes, and Yoongi internally groaned. Tae would come in the studio with a pout, hunched over and grumpy and then lock himself in his piercing room until he had a client.

Yoongi decided to run out quickly and grab coffee for the both of them. He locked up shop and trudged over to the cafe, pulling his black sweatshirt tighter around himself. He remembered walking to the coffee shop with Jimin after he had shot a thug in the head and made the rest strip. The thought sent a shiver down his spine because today was Wednesday- which meant Jimin was either preparing to kill, killing, or finished killing. He wondered how the younger was holding up. He should really text him to make sure everything is alright…

What if Jimin had died?

Yoongi hadn't thought about that before, and the idea went straight to his lungs as he choked on a breath. He had never thought Jimin would get hurt today, he never thought Jimin could die because he just seemed… invincible. He could be dead right now, and Yoongi wouldn't even know; like Schrodinger’s cat.

Yoongi stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a woman bump into him, but he didn't even register it because he was already pulling out his phone and finding Jimin’s contact. He decided to just start out with a text.

 

 **Yoongi:** hey

 **Yoongi:** r u ok?

 

He stared at his phone for a long time, then realized he was still in the middle of the walkway and jerked back to life, then practically ran to the cafe. His hands were slightly shaking as he opened the door and walked into the warm shop. Jungkook was manning the counter, and when he saw Yoongi his face broke into a grin.

“Hey, hyung!” he greeted. His smile faded when he really got a good look at Yoongi’s face which had become paler than usual. “Are you okay?”

“Uhm, y-yeah,” Yoongi said, voice staying level as if he Jimin couldn't be dead. “I just need my daily caffeine, you know?” He checked his phone display to see if Jimin had responded yet.

“The regular?”

“Uh, yes. And a caramel late for Taehyung. And one of those stirry things.”

Jungkook’s face fell at the mention of Taehyung but nodded at his order anyway. “Okay, hyung. It’ll be a minute.”

“That's okay.” Yoongi stood awkwardly by the counter since there wasn't a line behind him, and watched Jungkook make his Americano.

“How is Taehyung hyung?” Jungkook asked quietly, back turned to Yoongi as he started on the second drink.

“How so?” Yoongi knew, of course, what Jungkook was referring to.

“He’s come in here every day looking like death,” he shrugged. “And ordering the blandest coffee on the menu. His eyes are always puffy.”

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his black hair. “I dunno what happened, honestly. He’s been depressed since Monday, and I've been trying to get it out of him, but he just won't tell me.” He sighed again. “Honestly, it could be nothing. Taehyung is pretty sensitive, after all.”

“I think it's something, hyung,” Jungkook mumbled. “He’s always so happy. Acting like this is unlike him, don't you think?”

“You have a point,” Yoongi agreed.

“If you figure it out, let me know,” he muttered as he picked the best looking cake-pop and dropped it into a small paper bag. “Tell him hi for me, hyung?”

Yoongi nodded and grabbed the drink and bag. “Sure.” He turned on his heel to walk out but stopped. “You’re a good kid, Jungkook.”

“Oh,” Jungkook smiled sweetly. “Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi smiled back. “Chin up. See you later, kid.”

“Bye, hyung,” Jungkook waved. “Have a good day.

Yoongi walked out of the cafe with a satisfied nod and struggled to check his phone once again while juggling the drinks. It proved to be impossible, so Yoongi just let out a huff and decided to check his phone once he got to the studio. After all, he would have heard the little ding if Jimin did actually text back.

He got back to the parlor before Tae arrived, so he placed the coffee and pastry next to the younger boy’s stuff behind the counter and trudged back to his desk where that annoying half-finished wolf was waiting to mock his artistic ability. He had just sat down to face the sketched beast when the bell above the door rang and Taehyung shuffled through the door with his backpack and a depressed look. There were large rings around his eyes and his hair looked greasy like he hadn't taken a shower in days.

“Taehyung!” Yoongi called.

“Hey, hyung,” the younger yawned, dropping his backpack by the front counter.

“I left you a coffee and stirry thing,” Yoongi said, standing back up and walking to the counter, thankful for the distraction so he didn't have to finish the drawing.

Taehyung tried his best to show Yoongi a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Jungkook told me to say hi, by the way.”

Taehyung’s nose scrunched up. “Cute.”

“You know… he’s worried about you.”

Taehyung finally looked up to meet Yoongi’s gaze. “Huh?”

“And so am I,” he said. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong, kid?”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung asked in denial.

Yoongi snorted, humorlessly. “Stop avoiding it. I've been trying to ask you for days. What’s wrong, Tae?”

The kid looked taken aback by the nickname. Yoongi had never called him ‘Tae’ before. “I- nothing is wrong.”

“Stop fucking saying that.”

“Sorry.”

Yoongi sighed, motioning him to the couch. “Common, sit down.” Taehyung looked hesitant at first, but eventually gave in and sat next to Yoongi on the brown leather sofa. He looked at his feet. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“You haven't been yourself in days, you little shit,” Yoongi said.

“I- uh- my girlfriend dumped me on Sunday.”

Yoongi finally understood. “Ah, That's the reason. Why didn't you just tell me?”

“Um, that's not all,” Taehyung muttered, playing with his hands. “I'm… uh…”

Yoongi thought he knew what this was about, but he let the kid tell him himself. “Yeah?”

“I-Is it weird to be gay and asexual at the same time?” he blurted.

Yoongi chuckled and patted Tae on the back. “No, Taehyung, that's normal.”

“Do… do you know what being asexual means?”

Yoongi laughed again. “Yeah, I know what it means. You don't have to be embarrassed.”

“Nobody will want to date me,” he whined.

“Sure they will,” Yoongi assured, standing up and stretching. “Not everyone is just interested in sex, you know.”

Taehyung shrugged. “Sorry for being a butthead the past few days.”

“It's okay, I understand. Common, I have an appointment soon.”

Yoongi was having his second session with the girl who asked for the geometric sleeve to disappoint her parents. He thought she was kinda funny and a little relatable on some levels. He was going to start the shading today. As if on cue, the bell above the door rang and a small girl’s head peeked through the crack. “Hello!”

“Hi,” Yoongi and Tae greeted in unison.

“I'm a little early,” she said, coming into the parlor. “But I hope you can take me?”

“Sure,” Yoongi nodded. “Let me just get a few things prepared. Yoongi quickly cleaned his station and filled the small caps with ink, then asked the girl to come over and sit down as he snapped his latex gloves on. “Did your parents find out about the tattoo yet?” Yoongi asked.

She giggled sweetly. “Nope, not yet. Good thing its winter or else it would be a little suspicious for me to wear long sleeves.”

Yoongi chuckled as he wiped down her arm and prepared his tattoo machine, flicking it on so that a loud buzzing filled the parlor. “So today I'm gonna start on the shading. Let me know if the pain is too much then we can take a break.”

“Aye aye, captain,” the girl smiled.

Making sure everything was in place, he began on the tattoo. They made pleasant conversation for a while, but after an hour she stuck earbuds in and Yoongi was left alone with his thoughts. Of course, what else would he think about besides Park Jimin? Yoongi didn't know if Taehyung knew about Jimin’s job today, so he couldn't ask. Maybe Tae didn't know for a reason, or maybe he did know after all.

Yoongi jerked when he heard his phone ping with a text notification. “Hey, Taehyung!” he called. The younger grunted in acknowledgment from where he was working at the counter. “Will you see who that text is from?”

Taehyung shuffled through some papers then finally found Yoongi’s phone and said, “Namjoon hyung. Something about allergies and dogs?”

Yoongi couldn't help the jolt of fear that surged through him. Jimin hadn't responded, and that was very unlike him. Maybe his phone had died, right? Or maybe he left his phone at home? “O-Okay, thanks.”

“Sure.”

Yoongi turned back to the tattoo with a sick stomach.

 

-

 

Jimin had a briefcase in one hand and a dust mask pulled over his mouth. He glanced at the warehouse looming in front of him, looking for all the entrances and calculating the distance to the roof. The huge warehouse was in the middle of a desert, a long way away from Seoul. Jimin could see three guards at the main entrance, and he was sure they would be easy to take out.

“Ready?” Jisu asked through the earpiece. She was probably sitting in the comfort of her desk while Jimin was squatting behind a pile of crates. “Don't kill the guards. The back entrance is to your left.”

“Right.” Jimin was glad for the long pile of boxes that practically led to the back entrance. He ducked behind them and nimbly shot from cover to cover, keeping an eye on the unsuspecting guards. He made it to the last crate and reached into his pocket and brought out a small glass vial. It was empty, but he threw it at the farthest box and it shattered with a loud crash, effectively capturing the attention of Jimin, and he slipped by to the back door on the side of the building where the guards couldn't see him. Jimin had to pick the lock, but it was relatively easy and he sneaked inside in a matter of minutes. When he confirmed he was alone, he pressed a button on his earpiece and whispered, “I'm inside.”

“What do you see?”

“Dark hallway.”

“At the end, there should be a staircase. Build your gun before you move, though.”

Jimin laid his briefcase on the floor and unlocked it, popping the top open and quickly assembling the huge gun. The parts clicked together with a satisfying snap, and soon he had a whole gun ready to go. It was a mean looking beast, and Jimin was even nervous carrying the thing. He quickly ran to the end of the hallway and found the door Jisu had mentioned. He opened it just a creak and looked inside to make sure he was alone. He wasn't, there was one man standing right in front of the door, and his head had just turned at the sound of the door. Jimin had to move quickly if he didn't want to be killed.

He dashed inside the stairwell and slammed the guy against the wall, gun against his throat.

“W-What the hell, man?” the guy sputtered, trying to wiggle out of Jimin’s hold.

“Shh,” Jimin hissed, pressing him against the wall even harder. “Do you work for Numbers?”

“Yuh-Yes.”

“Okay.” Jimin reached down to the guys pants and pulled the gun from his holster. He tucked it into his own pants.

“Who are y-you?”

“Not important. Do you have any more weapons on you?”

“N-No.”

“Don't lie to me.”

“I promise!” he gasped.

Jimin took pity on the man and pulled the gun away from his neck. “Okay, I believe you. So, where can I find the auction?”

“The a-auction?”

“Yep, I want you to take me there please.”

“D-Downstairs,” he said.

“I need you to take me right above the stage, on the balcony,” Jimin said.

“T-They’ll k-kill me if I help you!”

“No, no,” Jimin assured. “I’ll make sure they don't.”

“Who do you, uh, work for?” the guy asked, trying to fake confidence.

“You’ll know in time, buddy. Now, let's go to the balcony.”

“I'm not going to help you!” His voice was resolute and firm as if he had any choice in the matter at all.

Jimin ducked and took the leg of the guys pants and ripped it by the seams, and the man let out a surprised shout. Jimin took the secret gun that had been tucked in the guy’s socks and threw it against the wall, hard. It broke into two pieces. “I was gonna let you keep that for when Numbers shoots you for treason, but I guess it's broken now, huh?” The guy turned three shades paler as Jimin grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind his back, forcing him down the stairs. “Balcony. Now. Say a word and I’ll blow your head off.” The guy complained easily, just as Jimin had suspected. He was led down three flights of stairs and stopped next to a small steel door. “This is the balcony?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Who is on it?” Jimin asked.

“The s-slaves,” the guy all but whimpered.

“Huh? What slaves?” Jimin didn't know about any slaves.

“The low sex workers,” he explained. “And organ donors.”

“Ah, fuck,” Jimin muttered. “It's one of those auctions?” The guy nodded silently. “Okay, I want you to go in first, alright?”

“W-What?!” he sputtered. “No way, they’ll catch me!”

He groaned. “Alright, alright, stay out here.” The guy looked so grateful Jimin almost laughed. He quickly picked the lock and the door creaked open. As soon as he peeked inside, a man in a suit threw the door open and grabbed him.

“Who the fuck are you?” the suited man hissed quietly. It was too dark to see the guy, but he could make out a large figure with broad shoulders. The balcony was small and dark, and it overlooked the theater and stage where a man stood with a woman to his side. The place was silent save for the man’s rapid speaking on stage, presumably talking about the woman being sold. On the balcony, there was a line of people with dirty clothes and greasy hair, and they were all staring at the new intruder with nervous eyes.  
Jimin grabbed the man’s neck and pushed his chest against the wall. He was surprised there was only one guard on the balcony, and that immediately set off a sense that someone else was hiding. Once the guy had passed out and slumped against the wall from lack of oxygen, Jimin quickly scanned the rest of the balcony, looking for another guard.

Hold on- what?

Three guards were tied up near the staircase in the corner, thick rags tied around their mouth to muffle them. Their eyes were wide and shaky, and Jimin couldn't understand what the fuck was going on. Who had tied up these guards?

Jimin glanced over at the line of nervous people in confusion. He noticed they all had their wide eyes on his gun. He stepped closer to the line and whispered, “Don't worry, I won't hurt you.” They all flinched when he spoke as if his words could hurt them. They were pitiful. He walked to the first person in line, a younger boy with saucer-like brown eyes and honey brown hair. “Who tied up those guards?” he asked quietly, voice soft as to not startle him.

The boy looked around nervously to check if anyone was watching, and then pointed to the figure that had passed out against the wall. He was slumped over, head almost touching his knees. Jimin had a brief panic attack because what if he had killed the guy? But the man’s broad shoulders rose and fell once, then, twice, and Jimin concluded he was alright.

“Who is that guy?” Jimin asked the boy, who shrugged his shoulders silently, still too scared to talk. Was that guy against Numbers? Was he working for XTC? Why didn't Jisu tell him another XTC worker would be here helping him? Jimin sighed angrily, pushing a shaking hand through his silver hair. He turned back to the kid. “Are you guys tagged?”

He nodded, pointing to the collar around his neck.

“Damn. Will they know if you leave?”

Nod.

“Okay. Thank you for being so brave,” Jimin said softly, touching the boy’s arm tentatively which made him flinch at first, but then sank against the touch when he realized Jimin wasn't trying to hurt him. “I'm going to try my best to get you out.” Jimin couldn't leave these people to be sold. He had power, he needed to use it for the good, even if he did work for a mafia. Numbers was sick, and he realized no matter how bad he thought XTC was, it would never match this. XTC had prostitutes, but they were paid and they weren't referred to as slaves, either. These people were being kept as slaves, and it hit Jimin that Numbers isn't a gang anymore.

Numbers is a mafia, sicker and dirtier than anyone had thought.

“W-Who are yuh-you, sir?” the boy asked, voice barely audible over the loud sound of the man on stage.

“You can call me Jimin,” he whispered with a bright smile. “And I'm going to get rid of Numbers for you, okay?”

“Jimin, this isn't apart of your mission,” Jisu hissed from inside his ear, making him jump in surprise. “Shoot the men and get out of there.”

“Jisu, this is a slave auction,” Jimin whispered. The gavel hit the podium below with a loud thud. “I have at least twenty slaves here, and I just knocked out a man who I think was against Numbers, too.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“I’ll explain later,” Jimin said instead. “But this is a lot worse than I thought.”

“Get in and get out, I thought that was your policy,” she said. “I need you to do exactly that. We’ll talk about the slaves when you get back.”

“I'm not forgetting about them,” Jimin said.

“Neither am I,” she said firmly. “But we aren't the police, and if you get caught this whole thing is over. I’ll find out about the slaves, alright? Just stay alive and get the fuck out of there. Once the gun goes off, it’ll be chaotic, so you better hurry.”

“Alright. I’ll be back to Seoul soon.” Jimin turned back to the boy and asked, “I can't get you out right now, but I promise to come back and destroy Numbers, okay? I don't break my promises.”

The boy looked at him hopefully. “Promise?”

Jimin patted his back gently. “Promise. Numbers will fall, and I’ll get you out. Now, I'm going to shoot some people down there, but I need you to keep quiet, alright? I'm a good guy, and I'm just trying to get rid of the bad guys.”

The kid nodded.

“Okay. I can't talk anymore, but I’ll see you later, okay? Promise.” Jimin grabbed his gun and slung it over the balcony, keeping a watchful eye on the stage. The woman was gone now, and now only the guy remained. Just as Jimin was informed, the rest of the targets walked on stage. All the targets worked as auctioneers, and so now all eight stood facing the audience, unsuspecting of the shooter. They looked exactly like their pictures, and Jimin peeked through the gun’s vision to align the red dot with the first man’s forehead-

Bang.

Jimin went down the line, cocking the gun and pressing the trigger with lightning speed until all eight men were laying in a heap on the stage. As the last shot rang out, there was a long silence, then all hell broke loose. Screams filled the air, and people scrambled to get out of their seats, pushing and shoving. Jimin ran back to the door from where he came in, but he stopped and looked back at the boy, who was staring at him with eyes the size of watermelons. “You can tell them my name, they already know. Stay safe and remember my promise, okay? See you later.” He threw open the door and ran out, only glancing once at the passed out man. Who was that guy, anyway?

He didn't have time to think about it because he could hear footsteps running down the stairs, and he had to move fast. The guy who had to lead him to the balcony was still outside the door, and Jimin threw him the gun he stole and said, “You might as well join me since Numbers will kill you, anyway.” The guy caught the gun and cocked it with a nod, knowing that if he didn't agree Jimin would blow his face off. Jimin didn't worry that the guy would turn on him, either, so they made firm eye contact and turned the corner to shoot up the guards on the steps. Three guards dropped to the ground and rolled down the steps as Jimin’s new allie shot them in the legs, and they darted up the steps in an effort to get to the ground floor as quick as possible. Jimin hit one guard on the second floor with the butt of his gun, and the guy fell over the railing and a few seconds later he heard the guy land with a sickening crack on the concrete below.

On the ground level, four guards were waiting for them, guns pointed at them. Jimin ducked and managed to his one in the hip and another in the knee, but his new partner let out a low groan and when Jimin looked over, he saw the guy had a huge gash in his shoulder. One guard aimed for Jimin but missed, and it bounced off the railing with a loud ping. “Shit,” Jimin hissed. He turned and shot the guard in the chest, and the last remaining one seemed to chicken out because he ran right by him and rushed down the steps. Jimin decided to just let him go.

His partner groaned again, and Jimin took him by the good arm and dragged him out the exit. “We’re close, man. Hold in there.” They were rushing down the hallway to the back exit, and that's when another man popped up and brought his pistol right to his partner’s neck and pulled the trigger. Jimin turned and shot him back, but it was too late. His partner fell to the floor with a sputtering cough and his breathing stopped. “Shit!” he hissed, and turned and ran out the exit. He was outside again, and the cool air whipped his face mercilessly. He ducked behind the crates again and sped down the protective line before reaching his rental car. It was parked behind the biggest stack of boxes, exposed but easy for a quick get-away.

Suddenly, a shot rang out and his side window splintered into a million pieces. Jimin slung his gun over the crates and shot the three men with guns at the entrance of the warehouse. He climbed into the car, and thankfully the keys were already in the ignition so he could twist them up and step on the gas. He sped out of the desert, driving on rough terrain and looking back every free second to make sure nobody was following him. So far so good, he thought.

He reached the main road, and he must have been breaking at least seven laws driving the way he was, but it didn't matter because this was between life and death. After a few minutes of silence, Jimin finally deemed it safe. He realized he left his gun case in the hallway, and he wondered what Numbers would do with it. They already knew who he was, so it was pretty much useless. He wasn't worried about Numbers shooting him because they knew that if they shot ‘Seoul’s greatest sharpshooter’, XTC wasn't going to play nice and they were going all in. No, he wasn't worried about that.

But he was worried about those slaves. He didn't know Numbers was big enough to have such a dirty branch. What was going to happen to them? He had promised the boy he would save them, but could really do anything after finding out Numbers was so big? He had promised.

Finally, after a half an hour of driving on empty roads, he let the tears fall. He hated it. He hated it so fucking much. He hated XTC and he hated Numbers and he hated killing people, and he hated that he had killed so many today. Jimin cried all the way to Seoul, and all the way to the bar where he typed the password into the heavy door and walked down the base’s steps, still sniffling softly when he knocked on the door to Jisu’s office.

She opened the door and immediately took Jimin and wrapped him in a warm hug. She had heard him crying through the earpiece since he left the warehouse, and Jimin was unashamed. They did this very thing every time Jimin completed a job. He would come to her in tears and she would drag him inside her office and make him tea as he told her what happened.

Soon Jimin was curled up on one of the office chairs, nursing a steaming cup of tea between his shaking hands. But he didn't want tea, he wanted hard alcohol. He wanted four lines of cocaine and valium, but he would have to wait until he arrived home to get what he really wanted.

“Tell me everything, from the beginning,” she said, pulling out a pen and paper and chewing the cap between her teeth. “Slowly.”

“I arrived at the warehouse and got in through the back door,” he recalled. She wrote something down on her paper, nodding. “A man saw me when I entered the staircase and I took both his guns and asked him to take me to the balcony.”

“Did you get a name?”

“Uh, no, I forgot. He’s dead, now, though.”

Jisu nodded again and scribbled something down. “Go ahead.”

“The balcony was on level three underground. There were four levels, by the way,” Jimin commented. “I picked the lock to that door and went inside. Some guy grabbed me and asked me who I was. I couldn't see his face because it was so dark up there, but he had really broad shoulders.” He waited until Jisu finished writing before continuing. “Anyway, I knocked him out but he’s still alive I think. It was weird because there weren't any more guards, so I looked around and saw three tied up with rags in their mouths.”

Jisu’s mouth curled into a frown and she tapped the pen against her desk. “That's odd, isn't it? Were you talking to children or something? I heard you make a… promise.”

“There was a line of dirty people, Jisu,” he said quietly. “Some were older and some were young. I talked to a boy who looked to be about fifteen.”

“Fifteen?” she gasped. “What was he doing with Numbers?”

“He wasn't with Numbers. He had a collar on. He was being s-sold as a slave.”

“A sex slave?” she asked, confusion clear on her face.

Jimin shrugged and looked down at his feet. “I dunno. Could be.” He needed to cry again, but it seemed all his tears were gone and he ended up just heaving dryly.

“Jeez.”

Jimin took a deep breath and continued. “So I told the kid what I was about to do, as you heard, and then shot the eight men on stage. Everyone went wild, and people were trying to get out as fast as they could. It was… pitiful to watch.” Jisu nodded and jotted something down. He recalled the rest of the story to her, about all the guards he shot and how his partner was shot in the throat. He told her about the car, and how the window had shattered.

“Ah, yes,” Jisu sighed. “The car is being taken to XTC repair, I think.”

Jimin didn't give a shit about the car. “Can I go now?”

Jisu looked up from her paper and stared at him for a long while, an almost scrutinizing glare. “Okay. Okay, yeah, I know you’ve had a hard day.” She took the papers and tapped them on the desk to align them. “Are… are you okay to be alone right now?”

Jimin stood up from his chair and laid the empty mug on her desk. “Yes.” He grabbed his jacket and turned on his heel to walk out the door. When his hand was on the doorknob he turned back around, a slightly apologetic look on his face. “Sorry. I'm not feeling too good.”

“I understand,” she said kindly, waving him off with a small smile. “Go take a hot bath and calm down, yeah?”

Jimin opened the door and said, “Thank you for understanding,” before walking out back into the dark hallway. Then the fucking tears came again, and the people in the bar were giving him worried looks as he stumbled out the door and made his way down the sidewalk, vision blurry and mind distorted from sin.

 

-

 

To say Yoongi was worried was the biggest understatement of the century. His hands were shaking as he maneuvered the tattoo gun around his client’s skin, so bad, in fact, that he had to cut the session short. He made up and excuse and said, “I want the rest of the tattoo to heal before I finish, just to make sure it looks the best it can look,” as an apologetic smile crossed his.

“Oh, okay!” she agreed with a happy nod.

“Taehyung will get you scheduled for your next appointment,” Yoongi said, motioning to the front desk where the younger boy was giggling about something on his phone, no doubt another damn cat video because he had really gotten into those the past week.

As soon as the girl left the parlor Yoongi was up out of his seat and diving for his phone. Still nothing from Jimin. Yoongi just stared at the blank screen, wondering if he was okay.

“Are you alright, hyung?” Taehyung asked, cocking his head like a lost puppy.

“O-Oh, yeah, I'm fine, Taehyung,” Yoongi muttered, locking his phone and sliding it into his pocket. “I'm going to take a smoke break.”

“Okay, hyung.”

Yoongi walked outside the studio and sat down on the cold steps. He didn't have any cigarets, but he pulled his phone back out and called Jimin. Was he overreacting? Maybe the kid just hadn't seen the text yet, or maybe his phone ran out of battery.

“You’ve reached Park Jimin.” Jimin’s cheerful voice came over the phone, and Yoongi almost gasped with relief, but then he realized it was a recording. “ Sorry I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I’ll get right back to you! Annyeong~”

Yoongi ended the call before he could leave a message. He groaned and pushed a hand through his messy hair, and he did something he hadn't done in a while- he prayed.

 

It was seven o’clock when Taehyung finally left the shop. Yoongi switched the sign to ‘closed’ and sank against the leather couch with a sigh. He was about to call the local hospital and asked them if they were hosting a certain Park Jimin tonight when his phone rang and it was fucking Park Jimin himself. Yoongi had never answered a phone so fast in his whole life.

“Jimin!” he gasped, heart racing with a mixture of relief and fear. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

There was a long pause, but Yoongi could hear his breathing from the other end. “Hyung.” It came out as a breath, but he could hear the pain and longing in Jimin’s voice.

“Where are you?” he asked. “Are you safe?”

“I'm at home,” Jimin said.

“Are you hurt?”

“...no.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Yoongi said, grabbing his jacket and keys, then shutting off the lights to the studio. “Don't go anywhere, okay?”

“I-I…” Jimin’s words fizzled out.

“What?” Yoongi asked softly, closing the door to the parlor and locking up. He turned and started down the street to catch the nearest subway. The sky was dark and the streetlights were flickering on, as were the billboards that seemed to unusually bright Yoongi had to squint.

“Thank you,” Jimin whispered, and then hung up.

Yoongi stared at his phone, then shook his head and pocketed it. He jogged down the steps of the closest station and hopped on the train that lead across town. The ride was almost unbearable because Yoongi just needed to be there right now. He needed to make sure Jimin was okay, and he needed to comfort him. It's what a hyung is supposed to do.

He got off when the subway was close enough to Jimin’s area, and it only took five minutes to find the huge apartment that intimidated Yoongi so much the first time he came. He walked into the lobby an straight to the reception desk where the same woman greeted him with a familiar smile.

“I'm here to see-”

“Mr. Park told me to send you up,” the woman cut in, motioning to the elevators. “You remember the way?”

“Yes, thank you,” Yoongi said, bowing quickly and walking as fast as he could to the elevators without looking suspicious. Security didn't ask to check him, so he climbed into the elevator and hit the button to the top floor as the twin doors closed with a soft breath of air. He paced nervously, playing with his tongue piercing as a distraction.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the doors finally pulled open on the top floor and Yoongi all but stumbled out. When he got to Jimin’s cherry door he didn't even knock because he knew it would be unlocked and pushed his way inside. All the lights were off, and Yoongi’s eyes had to adjust before he could walk down the small entrance hallway and into the main room.

It was just like that night- the colorful billboards shining their blinding light onto the marble floors, and the hum of the refrigerator being the only sound to disturb the night.

“Hyung.”

Yoongi looked for the voice, alarmed. He walked into the sunken in living area where Jimin was sitting on the red sofa, shoulders hunched as he stared at the ground. He was wearing a heavy black coat and his dust mask was still pulled over his mouth.

“Jimin,” Yoongi breathed. “You scared the shit out of me.” Jimin finally looked up, and his huge eyes were glistening with tears.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Jimin whispered, voice cracking a little.

“W-What happened?” Yoongi asked. Then he noticed the blood on Jimin’s right hand and neck, and said, “Common, let's go to the bathroom.”

When Jimin didn't budge, Yoongi reached out and took his hand- the bloody hand- and led him across the huge room and into the bathroom. “Don't touch me, hyung,” Jimin said, wrenching his hand away once they were in the bathroom and Yoongi had flicked the lights on. “I'm so fucking dirty. I don't want that blood on you-”

“Jimin.”

Jimin turned quiet and stared at the ground.

“Stop saying that. You aren't dirty, okay?” Yoongi’s tone was soft yet firm, leaving no room for argument. He turned towards the bathtub- a huge clawfoot pearl tub- and flicked the hot water on. The bathroom was the size of Yoongi’s apartment, with glossy tile floors and warm lights. There was a huge mirror against one whole wall which made the place look impossible bigger. He didn't have time to ogle, though.

Jimin hadn't moved, just stared at Yoongi drawing the bath with a mixture of peace and calmness.

Yoongi turned around and said, “You’re going to bathe in a trench coat?”

Ah, there he was- the sarcastic Yoongi was back, and Jimin couldn't be more grateful. Yoongi walked up to him and reached out to slowly unbutton his coat, pushing the fabric off his shoulders then letting it pool on the floor. “Have you eaten yet?” Yoongi asked, taking a step back.

Jimin shook his head.

“Take a bath, I’ll go make something,” he said, walking out of the bathroom to leave Jimin in privacy. Yoongi heard the rest of his clothes hitting the floor as he shut the door and padded to the kitchen. He rummaged around the kitchen, looking for something he could make, but Jimin didn't seem to have that much food in his house so he settled on frying some eggs on the stove.

Eventually, he got too hot in his sweatshirt and so he tugged it over his head and threw it onto one of the glossy red couches. He was wearing a ratty black t-shirt and equally ratty and skinny jeans, but he didn't feel out of place like the first time he did when he walked into Jimin’s apartment because he knew Jimin needed him right now, even if he was ratty and tattooed and abused.

Yoongi put Jimin’s fried egg on a plate and went to the fridge and pulled orange juice, then set a glass full right next to the food on the island. He knew Jimin would want to knock back hard alcohol, not orange juice, but Yoongi didn't want him getting drunk. He heard the door to the bathroom open, and then Jimin scampered across the small hallway with a towel around his waist and disappeared into his room. Yoongi turned back to the pan where he was frying his own egg now.

After a few minutes, Jimin finally appeared across the island in leggings and an oversized baby blue sweater that brushed his thighs. His silver hair was a wet mess, and his eyes still looked a little red and puffy.

“I made you an egg,” Yoongi said lamely, motioning to the plate and then turning to flip his own. The egg sizzled and popped loudly, and Yoongi felt a sense of nostalgia wash over him standing in this kitchen in the dark, watching the city’s lights blink and shimmer outside the windows. He used to make eggs for his brother when he came home beat up in the middle of the night. The kid always had a tendency to start fights, and Yoongi found himself picking up the pieces almost every day.

“Thank you,” Jimin said, sliding into one of the barstools. He took his chopsticks and picked at the egg absently.

“It's not poisoned,” Yoongi commented, flipping his own egg onto a new plate and sitting across from Jimin.

“Sorry.” Jimin took a bite and swallowed. He didn't look at Yoongi. “It's good.”

“Of course it's good, I made it.”

Jimin finally looked up at him and allowed a small smile to grace his features. “True.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi said hesitantly, looking into the younger’s brown eyes. “...Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Jimin looked down, seemingly uncomfortable as he played with his fingers.

Yoongi thought he knew what it was about. “I know you killed people.” Jimin winced at his words. “And I know you didn't like it. I won't be mad at you.”

He looked up, lip quivering. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

So Jimin spilled the whole story to Yoongi, not even sparing one detail, even if was gory and gross because Yoongi understood the situation he was in, and nodded solemnly at his words. Yoongi reminded him to breath whenever Jimin choked on his words and started wiping at his eyes furiously as if he hadn't already cried enough today.

Talking at the kitchen counter didn't suit either of them, and somehow they ended curled up on the couch, Yoongi rubbing his warm palm down Jimin’s shaking back as he explained the slave kid he promised he would save, and how pitiful they all looked with collars around their necks. He cried exceptionally hard at this part, but Yoongi was still there offering him comforting words and small touches.

At the end of the story, Jimin was curled into Yoongi’s side, crying uncontrollably. “I-I-I couldn't suh-save them, hy-hyung,” he gasped. “He wuh-was a kid.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Yoongi whispered for what seemed like the hundredth time. “You couldn't do anything, Jimin.”

Jimin sobbed.

“Do you understand?” Yoongi asked. “It's not your fault.” His heart ached for Jimin, and it ached for all the people being sold as slaves. Yoongi couldn't imagine what they were going through right now.

“I know,” Jimin whispered, wiping at his eyes. Ten minutes later the tears finally stopped and he felt drained. Yoongi didn't let him go, and he had never been so thankful for another person in his life.

They stayed like this for an hour, Yoongi carding his long tattooed hand through Jimin’s thick hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. “You’re the strongest person I know,” Yoongi muttered. “Don't forget that.”

Sometimes Jimin didn't feel like the strongest person. He felt worthless and dirty, but the way the older man spoke to him made all those self-deprecating thoughts peel away.  
Yoongi glanced at the big decorative clock on the wall, and Jimin peeked at him nervously. “It's getting late, Jimin.” Yoongi stood up and stretched his hands over his head, yawning. He didn't want to leave, but he couldn't stay here all night. Jimin probably wanted to rest and be alone, anyway.

He was about to grab his sweatshirt when a hand fisted in the back of his t-shirt and Jimin was standing up. “Don't go,” he whispered, drawing closer to Yoongi.

Yoongi swallowed hard, staring at Jimin with hooded eyes. He wet his lips.

“I need you,” Jimin whispered.

Then they were kissing, and Yoongi had his hands on Jimin’s waist, and Jimin’s hands were tangled in his black hair, tugging slightly. It was a chaste kiss- short and sweet- but when Yoongi pulled away he thought he had discovered the secrets of the world because he felt so much _fucking pleasure_ it was almost unreal.

They stared at each other, eyes wide and blown with arousal. They had just discovered something great, and there was no going back.

They were hesitant at first, slowly closing the distance with another short kiss, but soon it grew heated, and Jimin was licking into Yoongi’s mouth desperately. He was quick to reciprocate, deepening the kiss even further and pulling Jimin against his body. They were slowly walking backward- for reasons Yoongi didn't understand but he guessed it had something to do with the push and pull of their mouths- and Jimin’s back hit that huge glass wall. Yoongi pulled back and just stared.

Jimin looked so ethereal panting against the window, eyes blown and the city’s bright lights outlining his body like a white marker. Yoongi didn't think he could ever get the image out of his head.

And that's exactly when Yoongi heard his phone ring. He just kept staring at Jimin, who blushed under his gaze and murmured, “Uh, a-are you gonna answer that?”

Yoongi snapped back to reality, turning red. “Shit, who the fuck is that?” He jerked away from the window and went back to the living room to dive for his phone. It was Namjoon, that dick. “What the fuck, Namjoon?” he answered immediately.

“Huh? Hyung?” He sounded confused at Yoongi’s annoyed tone and extreme swearing.

Of course, he was oblivious to the situation that Yoongi was currently in, but that didn't stop the older from being mad. “What do you want Namjoon?”

“Um, are you okay?”

Yoongi glanced back to the window where Jimin still stood, watching him with a mix of embarrassment and confusion. “I'm… I'm fine.”

“Oh, okay.”

“What do you need?” Yoongi asked, anger finally dripping out of his voice because poor Namjoon was innocent.

“Umm, well, this is kind of a funny story and I swear I asked everyone to take him in, but Jin refused because he has an allergy, and all the people I work with are too busy to care of him-”

“What the _hell_? What are you talking about? Who is ‘him’?”

“Uh, our new dog.”

The line was silent for a moment, then Yoongi groaned. “Namjoon, tell me this is a joke. You did not just adopt a dog.”

Jimin giggled from the window.

“I didn't _adopt_ it!” Namjoon protested. “It was all alone in a box on the street, and nobody wanted to help it! I had to do something, hyung.”

Yoongi groaned again. “No. No. I don’t have to time to take care of a dog.”

“But it's cute!”

“I don't care if it looks like a fucking chubby bunny, we’re not keeping it.”

“But it’s all alone without a family and starving! You can see it's ribs, hyung!”

“You can see my ribs, too, but you don't hear me begging to live with someone else.”

“Hyung!”

“Nope. We don't have room in our apartment.”

“I’ll take full responsibility!” Namjoon insisted. He heard a bark, and then a little laugh from Namjoon. “I’ll take it for walks and bathe it and give it food. You won't need to do anything!”

Yoongi sighed, exasperated. “Why can't your boyfriend take it, again?”

“He has an allergy.”

“A likely excuse.”

“I'm serious!”

Yoongi groaned again and then threw his head back. “Gosh, fine! You can keep the damn dog.” Namjoon gave a little cheer from the other end, and he heard more barking. “But if it pisses on anything, I'm kicking you both out.”

“Thank you, hyung! I promise it won't pee on anything,” Namjoon laughed. “By the way, when are you going to be back? Jeremy wants to meet you.”

“Jeremy? Okay, I’ll let you keep the dog but it's name will not be Jeremy,” Yoongi said. No way in hell was he going to have a dog named Jeremy and go to sleep with a clear conscience every night. “And uh…” he glanced over to Jimin, still standing there with his big sweater and tight leggings. “I’ll be home… later.”

“It's a Wednesday, where are you, anyway? It's pretty late.”

Yoongi wondered if Jin’s motherly instincts were rubbing off on him. “It's a long story, honestly,” he replied, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “But I'm safe, so you don't have to worry.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“See you later, Nams. Say hi to...Jeremy for me.” The dog's name came out more like a question; that still didn't seem right to Yoongi.

Namjoon snorted and started cooing to the dog, an undetectable tangle of words, and then hung up.

Yoongi stared at his phone for a second- wondering what had just happened- and then let it fall on the couch with a huff. “What on earth…” he wondered aloud.

“Did you just adopt a dog named Jeremy?” Jimin asked with a little giggle.

Yoongi looked back up to the window where Jimin was leaning comfortably. He felt a blush sweep over his cheeks at remembering what they had just done, and Jimin seemed to notice his discomfort because a blush of his own turned his face cherry red. “Uh, yeah. I think I have a dog now?”

“That's... Cute?”

“Maybe? I don't really like dogs…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward.

“Um, do you want to come down here?” Yoongi asked hesitantly, noticing Jimin still hadn't left his spot at the window.

“Oh, uh, I guess. I wasn't sure you would want to…” he let his words fizzle out as he stared at the ground.

“Wouldn't want to what?”

Jimin shrugged, playing with his fingers. “See me after I just… you know. Came on to you like that. I shouldn't have-”

“Jimin.”

He looked up, eyes a little glassy and apologetic.

“Do you regret it?” Yoongi asked softly. Seeing that Jimin wasn't going to come back to the living room, he walked up to the windows instead. “Because I don't. But I don't want to push you if you don't want it, either.”

He didn't want to force Jimin into anything like Taemin had done with him.

“No!” Jimin backtracked. “I just… don't know how much I can please you.”

“Please me?” He didn't like the sound of that, even if he didn't understand what the younger man was talking about. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, I live a dirty lifestyle,” he explained helplessly. “How you be with someone like me? I killed a bunch of people today. You just kissed a fucking killer.” He was working himself into hysteria, breath becoming ragged and labored.

“Jimin!” Yoongi cut him off, touching his cheek softly. “Stop it. Didn't I tell you I don't care what you did today because it's not your fault? I don't think you’re a bad person, Jimin. I like you for who you are.”

Jimin let out a dry sob and fell on his knees, shaking.

“H-Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi said, slightly alarmed at the younger’s actions as he dropped to his knees as well. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?”

“I want you so bad, hyung,” Jimin muttered, looked up at him.

“Fuck,” Yoongi whispered. He was already so whipped. He cupped Jimin’s face and kissed him softly, and the younger dug his nails into Yoongi pale skin.

Jimin was first to desperately deepen the kiss, trying to get a good angle so he could taste all of Yoongi. They stood up and Jimin was pushed against the window again. Yoongi pulled away and went down on his neck, trailing kisses down and under his jaw.

But then Jimin moaned, and Yoongi froze.

It was the most beautiful and erotic sound he had ever heard, but he also realized they were going way to fast.

“Why’d you stop?” Jimin breathed, voice cracking. “I-Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Yoongi assured, pulling back and carding a tattooed hand through Jimin’s hair. “But we need to slow down a little, okay?” He paused and swallowed, remembering  
Taemin. “I, uh, don't want to hurt you.”

Jimin’s face softened and he said, “Why would you think you could ever hurt me?”

“I just don't want to take the risk,” he replied with a soft smile. Jimin did the same and nodded. “Are you okay to be alone right now?” he asked after a while.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You should go,” Jimin said with a grin. “Jeremy’s waiting for you.”

Yoongi pretended to groan. “Great. Just what I wanted.”

“Um, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11 chapters left and they finally kiss. Fun fact- originally, they kissed in the third chapter, but then I rewrote the whole thing. 
> 
> AND ALSO ASEXUAL TAEHYUNG MAKES ME WEAK I LOVE MY PRECIOUS GUCCI BOY 
> 
> I hooooopee you enjoyed!! Thank you so much for reading this, it really means a whole lot to me! ILYSM!!! 
> 
> Oh, and who was that guy? I wonder...


	12. Feelings for a Sniper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is SUCH a short chapter and I am seriously so sorry!!! I have been sick all week so this update will be tiny :(

Yoongi had never felt so confused in his entire life. He walked out of the elevator and into the lobby, and the woman at the front desk gave him a familiar wave as he pushed out the door and into the chilly air. It was late at night, and the streets were empty save for the few stray idiots who thought it would be a good idea to get smashed on a Wednesday.

What had he just done?

He barely registered the cold as he trotted down the subway station stairs and scanned his card. The subway clambered away down the track, and he just sat and listened to the rumble of the metal under the train with numb ears, not quite registering his surroundings until the speaker above the sliding doors announced his stop and he climbed back off, walking back into the chilly air of Seoul. 

When he passed Jungkook’s coffee shop his brain finally started processing again and then it all came crashing down on him like a wave. But a gentle wave, like one Jimin had painted and hung proudly on his apartment walls. 

Even though the wave was gentle, he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Because, objectively, there was something completely wrong with this. 

Jimin was a criminal.

Yoongi had said that he didn't care who Jimin was, or what his occupation happened to be, but was he really telling the truth? He knew Jimin had absolutely no choice in the matter, at least for now. He knew he was going against the law with every job he took, but he couldn't do anything about it because he was stuck in that mafia until Mr. Kim dropped dead or Jimin got high enough of the social ladder to escape without a bat of an eye. 

Yoongi knew it wasn't his fault, yet that doesn't change his relationship with the law, and they both knew it. It didn't matter how many times Yoongi said everything would be okay- that everything was perfectly normal and what he was doing was perfectly fine- because, in reality, it wasn't. It wasn't at all legal, and it wasn't at all normal. 

Could he just ignore the fact that Jimin was opposing the law every day of his life?

He wished he could, but it didn't work like that. Jimin was in danger, Taehyung was in danger, and Yoongi suspected that he was now in the line of fire. He had attended a gala with the greatest sniper in Seoul, and the press had proof of their relationship right on their cameras. It probably looked shady to everyone; Yoongi- a man with a body packed full of tattoos, next to Jimin- a publicly noticed sniper. Everyone must think Yoongi works for the mafia now, too. 

Yet, despite the facts burning into Yoongi’s mind as he walked back to the apartment, he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for getting involved with Jimin. It was his choice; Jimin didn't force him to attend the gala, and he didn't force him to listen to all Jimin’s stories about the mafia. It was completely his choice, and he was angrier at himself than he was at Jimin. He did this to himself. He kissed a sniper, and nobody else made him do it. 

And that's what scared him. He didn't feel guilty at all, only burning hot passion and lust growing in the pit of his stomach. He knew he should feel guilty, though, but there was no place for that when his whole body was being occupied with a growing fire that ripped through him and replaced all his logical thoughts with lustful, dirty thoughts. There was no room for regret, and he could only dive deeper. 

 

-

Thursday

Mr. Kim wasn't a liar by any means because business had picked up quickly. Soon, people were strolling into his studio asking for a certain ‘Ecstacy pill’ tattoo and handing him a wad of cash. Yoongi usually didn't strike up conversation with the workers because they looked pretty intimidating and frankly just like someone you wouldn't want to talk to, but a few came in that he could talk freely with. 

Today, an older man came in. He had weary eyes and his face was lined and wrinkled like an old road map, but his smile was pearly white and inviting. Yoongi found himself working comfortably as he started on the tattoo, digging his needle into the old man’s shoulder. “How old are you, young man?” he asked gruffly, reminding Yoongi of his grandpa’s rough yet friendly voice.

“Twenty four,” Yoongi said, pulling the tattoo machine back and wiping the blood away. 

“Ah,” the man mused, almost sadly. “You’re so young.”

Yoongi chuckled nervously, unsure of what he was supposed to say. “Y-Yeah, I'm pretty young.”

“Do you work for… well, you know.”

There was another customer in the shop, and Yoongi was glad the guy hadn't started spewing about the mafia like a broken water fountain. “I don't,” Yoongi responded quickly. “But I have a friend who does.” A friend. Well, a friend that he had kissed and practically made out with. A friend he had a childish crush on until he found out he was a sniper… then the desire turned into something more extreme and a lot more illegal than he would have anticipated. A friend he most definitely had feelings for. 

“Really? What’s their name?”

“Umm…” Yoongi didn't know if he should really tell this guy, but it seemed everyone knew the greatest sniper’s name these days, so he said, “Park Jimin.”

The guy made a sound recognition and nodded his head. “I know him. And what he does.”

“...Yeah.” Yoongi felt the urge to stand up for Jimin and defend his honor, but he kept his mouth sewn shut and continued on the tattoo. 

“He’s a good kid, Jimin,” the guy said, much to Yoongi’s surprise. A good kid? Not many people would refer to a sniper as a ‘good kid’. 

“... he is a good person.”

A fond look took over the old man’s face, and his mouth crinkled into a worn smile. “You’re a good kid, too.” Yoongi raised his eyebrows a little too high, and the man chuckled. 

“Many people who know about… -you know- turn us in right away. It's good Park has a friend like you.”

Yoongi seemed to mull over these words for a while, pressing the needle back into his wrinkly olive skin as he pouted in thought. “... I'm glad to have a friend like him, too.”

 

-

 

Yoongi slammed the door to his apartment and sank against the door, tired and irritable. Not only had he tattooed a certain pill on four people today, but he also hadn't heard from Jimin all day. He had at least expected a text. Or maybe he should just grow up and text the kid first himself. 

Before he could debate whether or not to text Jimin any longer, that stupid mutt pounced on him and started licking his face with loud slurps. “E-Ew!” Yoongi spit, shoving the dog off his lap and jumping up. 

When Namjoon called last night asking to keep a dog, Yoongi had not expected it to be a fucking huge Doberman. He thought it would be more like a small fluffy dog with white fur, but this dog was massive and had giant pointy ears that swiveled around if you made even the smallest sound. It looked scary to Yoongi who didn't exactly like dogs in the first place, but guard dogs just tipped him over the edge. It could bite his face off!

The only reason he kept it was because the dog happened to be potty trained and if it was as friendly as a Disney princess. It hadn't barked once, and it seemed to have a stupid happy grin permanently slapped on its face as his tongue lolled out of his mouth. Yoongi might not like dogs, but he wasn't heartless, and he had no choice but to keep it. 

The problem was its name. Namjoon had apparently called it ‘Jeremy’ one too many times, and now that's all the dog responded to. It was the ugliest damn name for a dog, and Yoongi cringed every time he heard it. Besides, he looked more like a ‘Ripper’ than a ‘Jeremy’. 

But, alas, Namjoon had good news concerning the dog’s name and broke into the kitchen with a goofy grin. “Hyung,” he said, chuckling slightly. “You will not believe this.”

“What, not even a ‘how was work’? Not a ‘nice to see you, hyung’?” Yoongi quipped sarcastically as he poured himself a glass of water. 

“How was work? Nice to see you, hyung,” Namjoon said in monotone. 

“Work was alright. You know, business has been speeding up. I had this cute customer today who asked for a dog tattoo and she-”

“Hyung!” 

“I'm just messing with you,” Yoongi chuckled. “What will I not be able to believe?”

“Right, I have big news,” he said, voice regaining its jovial tone. “The dog responds to more than ‘Jeremy’.”

As if sensing Namjoon was talking about him, Jeremy came trotting into the kitchen, tail swinging happily and almost hitting a cup off the countertop. 

“Okay? What can I call him now? Anything is better than Jeremy.”

“Jerms.”

“...Jerms.”

The dog definitely heard its name and pressed his snout into Yoongi leg curiously. 

Yoongi sighed loudly. “Jerms. Great. It can't respond to a normal pet name like ‘Cookie Dough’ or something?”

“Who would name their dog Cookie Dough?”

“Irrelevant.”

Namjoon chuckled and bent down to pat his legs. “Come here, Jerms! Who’s a good boy? That's right! You’re a goo’ boy!”

“I'm going to bed,” Yoongi announced, cutting off Namjoon’s gross cooing. He grabbed his water and walked away to his room.

“You just got home!” he protested, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

“I'm tired!”

“It's only six!”

“I know! I'm tired!” Yoongi called, slamming the door to his room. He dropped face first onto his bed and groaned loudly. It had been such a long day, and it was mixed with the stress of his annoying feelings for a sniper. He couldn't seem to catch a break. 

He groaned again and rolled back over. He flicked on his lamp and grabbed his computer to power it on. Yoongi sat criss-cross with his back propped up against the bed headboard as he brought up Netflix and clicked on the show ‘Friends’. Namjoon and he had already watched the whole show three times since they moved in together, but it always cleared his mind for a while and gave him a sense of peace so he clicked the first episode and snuggled against the pillows. 

Two hours later Namjoon knocked on his door softly and Yoongi called, “Come in.”

Namjoon came inside, Jerm on his heels, and asked, “What have you been doing?”

“Friends,” Yoongi explained, pausing the episode and patting a space next to him on the bed. “Wanna watch with me?”

Namjoon grinned and climbed under the black sheets next to him. “I'm always up for Friends.” After a few failed attempts, Jeremy managed to hop up on the bed, too, and fit himself right between the two men, laying its big head on Namjoon’s lap.

 

-

 

Jimin had been called to an emergency board meeting by Nam, and he knew that could only mean one thing: he was going to get another job. He didn't have any need to attend one of Nam’s meetings unless a sniper was being hired. In this case, he was the sniper. 

Unlike Mr. Kim, Nam held his meetings underground underneath the bar. Jimin didn't like coming underground. It was too cold and too dark, but it’s where Nam practically lived, so he had no choice but to trudge down the steps and push through the heavy metal door on floor -2. 

He had just gotten home from class when Nam had decided to pull one of his stupid ‘urgent’ meetings, and he not only had the weight of homework on his shoulders but now apparently an upcoming sniping job. He had a painting due by Friday, and an art history paper that he couldn't even remember the due date of. He has had less and less time to actually sit down and enjoy painting. Jimin used to have the ability to slowly drag the paintbrush across the canvas in almost a therapeutic manner, but now art seemed more of a burden than anything. 

Jimin found the meeting room and practically shoved the door open to stomp into the room and throw himself into one of the chairs placed around the wood table. Only a few other men were present, but they seemed alarmed at Jimin’s sudden entrance.

Nam stood at the head of the table, looking equally surprised at his best worker’s attitude. “Is something wrong, Jimin?”

Is something wrong? Fuck yes, there is something wrong. He’s not getting any sleep, all he thinks about are those stupid slave kids, school had been kicking his ass, and Min Fucking Yoongi made out with him the other day and hasn't said a word since. 

“No,” Jimin lied. “I'm fine.”

Nam didn't believe a word of it but decided not to comment on Jimin’s attitude. “I think you’ll be happy to attend this meeting, Jimin.”

“And why is that?”

“I have two things to go over. One is the information you managed to pick up at the gala, specifically about the mule working for XTC who brought in cocaine against out orders. And two is the job you took on Wednesday. Those slave kids you saw.”

“How do you know about them?” Jimin asked, almost defensively. 

“Jisu told me how distraught you were over the whole thing.”

“Who the fuck wouldn't be ‘distraught’?” Jimin demanded.

Nam sighed, crossing his hairy arms and sending him a pointed look. His eyes looked too small glaring out from behind those round frameless glasses. He ignored Jimin’s last comment and waited until all the workers attending the meeting arrived. Jisu happened to slide through the door thirty seconds before it started and plopped right next to Jimin and opened her laptop. They didn't exchange any words, but there was a silent greeting that traveled through the air between them. 

Nam clapped his chubby hands once, gaining everyone’s attention and started the meeting. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he greeted. “Thank you for meeting me out here tonight. I hope you all have had a wonderful day-”

“Get to the fucking point,” someone called. 

Nam gave a disappointed chuckle. “Right. I've gathered you all here today to talk about the information picked up at the gala last Saturday. The last meeting Mr. Kim held, he made it explicitly clear the importation of cocaine into Seoul was strictly prohibited until further notice. About seven mules are stuck in America waiting for the go-ahead to bring home the haul, but it turns out one decided to go against XTC and bring his load into Seoul anyway. We don't know what the fuck was going through his head, but he might just be working for someone else.”

Nam let that sink in with everyone and he grabbed the remote to turn on the projector. A picture of a man popped up on the screen. He had long black hair that lay in greasy clumps around his head. His eyes were dark and beady, and the image made Jimin slightly uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't figure out. 

“Bae Hyeok,” Nam continued, motioning to the picture on the screen. “After speaking with Mr. Kim’s right-hand man, Ahn Junhoe, I found out more about this guy.”

Jimin wanted to roll his eyes at the mention of Junhoe. Of course, a slick bastard like him would know about this guy. 

“It turns out this Hyeok character had quite close ties with one of Kim’s sons.”

This was news to Jimin. He knew Mr. Kim had sons, but he hadn't ever heard a word spoken about them, neither did he know anything. Kim kept his personal life out of the mafia, but Jimin wouldn't be surprised if he only had children in order to keep the power of the mafia within their bloodline. 

“Junhoe didn't know much about Mr. Kim’s sons,” Nam shrugged. “I guess nobody really does, but he did know that Hyeok and his oldest son used to play together when they were younger. According to Junhoe, they are close friends.”

“Would that imply one of Mr. Kim’s sons might know if Hyeok is loyal to XTC or not?” One man asked, tapping his pen on his notepad in a thoughtful manner.

“It might,” Nam agreed. “But we have no way to contact his sons at this point. For all we know, they don't even exist. Mr. Kim has kept them away from the mafia; they aren't even registered.

“His son is the only way to get the answers, though,” someone pointed out.

“Not the only way, but most certainly the easiest,” Nam nodded. “Nobody is about to ask Mr. Kim for his son, either. So all we know is that Hyeok and one of Kim’s sons know each other very well, and that could potentially lead to danger.”

“Are we going to do anything about it right now?” Jimin asked. He wanted to know where he fits into this scheme. 

“Yes, I was getting to that. We don't know Hyeok’s location at the moment. He came into Seoul, dropped off the cocaine, and then we have receipts for a plane ticket to Taiwan. He could very well be in Taiwan, but I imagine he just bought the ticket to throw us off. I have two men looking for him right now, but they haven't found so much as a footprint. Jimin, I'm going to need you and Jisu to team up and search for him as well.”

“With what? We have nothing to go off of,” Jisu protested. 

“Well, I know that,” Nam said. “But this isn't up to me, Kim wants him caught and bagged in two weeks.”

“Dead or alive?” Jimin asked. 

“Doesn't matter, do what you want,” Nam said with a wave of his hand. “I’ll send you two his profile and information later.”

“So you don't know where he is, don't know anything about him, and you expect us to find him in two weeks?” Jisu questioned in disbelief. 

“Since he worked for XTC we have his birth certificate and basic information, but yes, you’ll definitely have a hard time with this one. I'm sure you’ll get it done though, Jisu-ssi.”

“Right,” she sighed, cooling off and sitting back in her chair again. “Will do.”

“Good.”

“Is there any chance he could be working for Numbers?” someone questioned from beside Jimin. 

Nam went quiet, but Jimin could tell the cogs were turning in his head. “Yes,” he answered slowly. “There is a slim chance. Numbers is one of the bigger gangs in Seoul, and if he turned away from XTC he might be seeking protection from them in exchange for information.”

“If Jisu hacks into Number’s database we might be able to find Hyeok’s profile. If he even joined, that is,” Jimin suggested.

“Easier said than done,” Jisu sighed. “I tried getting into their database on the night of the gala, but they added another firewall that I couldn't get around. They’ve really upped their security.”

“Yes, well, do what you can, Jisu,” Nam said. “I trust you’ll be able to figure it out. While we’re still on the subject of Numbers, I want to go over what Jimin picked up in his last job.” Nam motioned to Jimin. “Want to tell them what you saw?”

“I was at a warehouse just outside of Seoul in the desert,” Jimin started. “They were holding an auction for prostitutes, slaves, and what I assume to be organs.”

“Organ trafficking in Numbers?” a man asked in disbelief. 

“Yep. You thought XTC could only be that dirty, huh?”

“On topic, Jimin,” Nam warned. 

“Right, anyway,” he continued, “There were a bunch of slaves I saw, and some of them were underage.”

“Slaves for what?” another questioned. 

Jimin shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe sex slaves or organ donors? Who knows. The fact is this: Numbers is a lot bigger than we thought, and we finally have some substantial evidence to bring them down.”

“Evidence?” one man question. He quirked a brow and gave Jimin a demeaning look. “Where? All we have is your word.”

“We have the location of the warehouse,” Jimin protested. “The police can bust them down.”

Nam sighed loudly, earning everyone's attention. “He’s right, Jimin. They don't use the same location for their auctions every time. They will have cleared out all evidence from there. All we really have is your word.”

“Then we’ll break into their base!” Jimin decided. 

Nam sighed again, sounding more exasperated. “That is unwise. First, we don't know how big Numbers really is. We thought they were just a petty gang, but I guess they’re a lot more than that. Before we break into their base we need information. Find us enough information to take down a small mafia and we’ll talk, Jimin.” His tone was a little condescending, and Jimin bristled at the words. “Second, Mr. Kim would have to be the one to order something like that. I have no power when it comes to raids.”

It made sense, but Jimin just wanted to be done with Numbers and go home. “Okay. I still want to save those slave kids, though.”

“Go ahead, get yourself killed,” Nam dismissed with a wave. 

“Really? You’ll let me do that?” Jimin questioned hopefully.

“No.” Jimin frowned. “In fact, I strictly prohibit you from acting against Numbers until I say so. That is an XTC order. I think you know what happens when you go against XTC orders?” Nam waited, expecting an answer.

“Yes,” Jimin mumbled. 

“Good,” Nam nodded, clapping his hands. “Let's move on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the short update, but I hope you liked it anyway :)
> 
> (^^ Also sorry for the lack of smut, but that will definitely be coming up lmao)
> 
> Next week I'll reward you all with a long-ass chapter <3  
>  ILYSM


	13. Branded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated SS for slight sexting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am 1 whole day late because I was out of town and couldn't update :(( 
> 
> Suuuuper sorry but I hope u enjoy this chapter and *slight* smut

Nam wanted to keep Kim’s suspected porn production on the down low. Nobody knew if it was even true, but Jimin and the rest of them suspected it wasn't too far-fetched, especially based on the other things he had done in the past. If he did have a porn site up and running, it must have been pretty deep in the web.

Jimin decided not to think about the issue any longer as he toed off his shoes once he stumbled into his apartment. That issue could take care of it itself, and it wasn't Jimin’s place to be concerned about it, anyway. So he turned his attention to the painting he should have started when Nam called a meeting. It was a tiger, hunched in the position to attack. He only had time to paint the eyes before he left, a bright yellow that seemed to glow under the dim lighting.

Before starting on the painting, he went to his room and changed into more comfortable clothes; ones that he could get messy in. He had been using the tight spandex shorts that he had received upon working at the strip club as his decided ‘painting shorts’. They had splatters of color here and there, and even the occasional blob from the times Jimin had literally squirted a glob of paint onto them and used his leg as the paint pallet. He pulled on a white t-shirt and padded back to the living room where the tiger sat on the easel on top of a floor full of newspaper. He would get in huge trouble if he got paint on the apartment’s marble floors.

Jimin grabbed his phone and connected it to the Bluetooth speakers, clicking on his music playlist that had the title ‘Art’. The sound came out in soft streams from the speakers, enveloping the room in a hushed beat. This particular song was quite sensual. It happened to be an English song- and Jimin couldn't understand the words at all- but the heavy beat and soft high tones made it seem sexual in a way he couldn't define. He liked to listen to this type of music while he was working, and he might think it was a little creepy of himself, but there was something about it that filled him with inspiration.

He sighed and dropped his phone on the couch, making sure to turn the ringer all the way up in case he got a text from Yoongi. Wishful thinking. Jimin didn't know what the fuck had happened Wednesday night, but it left him confused and a little worried. Yoongi had said, “We need to slow down”. That meant something, right? That surely had to mean the older didn't just want this to be a one-time thing. He made it sound like he wanted a… relationship.

Or was Jimin just in dreamland?

He shook off the unnerving thoughts and turned his focus back to the painting. He took out his clean brush and dripped a bit of orange paint onto the pallet, mixing it was a small dot of brown to create the tiger’s fur. He started with short strokes, letting the brush fall onto the rough canvas in quick but light streaks.

Tonight, painting didn't seem like so much of a chore.

 

-

Friday

 

“Hyung!”

Yoongi looked up from his sketch, meeting a wide-eyed Namjoon standing by the door, chest heaving like he had just run a mile. Jerms trotted up to the man and shoved his snout into Namjoon’s palm, wanting attention.

“Namjoon? What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked as he grabbed the remote to turn off the TV, giving the younger man all his attention.

“Jin hasn't answered any of my calls. I texted him Wednesday night and he hasn't responded since. I just tried to call him but he didn't answer.”

Yoongi glanced at the clock. It was only 6 in the morning; it was way too early for this. Jin was probably just in a food coma or something, maybe even catching up on sleep. Namjoon had always been the type of boyfriend to worry. “It's only been about a day and a half if we consider the time,” Yoongi said calmly. “Jin’s fine.”

“But how do you know?” he protested stubbornly. “Jin always answers my calls.”

“Just ask Hoseok,” Yoongi said logically.

“I did,” Namjoon said, growing more and more anxious. “Jin told him he would be gone for a day, but he didnt tell me where he was going.”

Shit. That did sound a little weird to Yoongi. Jin always informed them about his life, whether they wanted to know about it or not.

“Okay,” Yoongi breathed, thinking through all the logical choices. “Okay… I’ll try to call him, too.” He unlocked his phone, and it opened to Jimin’s contact. Yoongi had been trying to muster the nerves to text the younger for about two days, but he always caved and ended up locking his phone again and throwing it down with an agitated huff. Wait- now was not the time to think about Jimin. He opened Jin’s contact and pressed the “Call” button.

It rang and rang, but nobody answered.

“Shit,” Yoongi mumbled, bringing the phone down from his face and glancing at Namjoon. “Nothing.”

Namjoon groaned, trying to mask his worry. Jeremy even seemed to sense the tension in the room because he let out a high whine and then trotted back down the hall to Namjoon’s bedroom.

“Maybe his phone is just dead,” Yoongi suggested desperately.

“I'm going to Hoseok’s and Jin’s apartment,” he decided, turning back on his heel.

“I’ll come with you,” Yoongi said, throwing his sketchbook on the table and grabbing his keys and phone. Namjoon didn't try to stop him, either, so they quickly left the apartment and caught the closest subway. The younger fiddled nervously with the handle that hung from the train’s ceiling, and Yoongi didn't know what to say to comfort him. Truthfully, he couldn't stop the worry that seeped into his own mind because Jin had never gone off the grid like this before.

They got off the subway and sped up the station stairs. Their pace got quicker the longer they let their minds think about this; every bad situation that Jin might be in right now. They arrived at the apartment in record time, both a little out of breath as they knocked on the door.

Hoseok popped up in the doorway, a confused frown growing on his face. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Jin hasn't answered our calls,” Yoongi explained. “Can we come in? My ass is freezing.”

“Right,” Hoseok jumped out of the doorway to make room for them to barge inside. “Jin hasn't answered my calls, either.” They all went to the cozy living room and sat down on the plush couch. Somehow, it seemed a lot less cozy without Jin. “Wednesday night he told me he was going to visit his father, but I haven't heard from him since.”

“Oh, he went to visit his father?” Namjoon asked, eyebrows shooting up as a worried pout took over his features. “I didn't know that.”

“Yup. I think he’s fine,” Hoseok said with a nod. “I mean, isn't his dad a rich CEO or something? Jin’s probably sipping on wine and floating in a pool.”

“True,” Yoongi agreed. “I've never met his dad, though. Jin doesn't talk about him often.”

“Yeah.” Hoseok picked at a thread in his sweater. “I don't think they have a good relationship.”

“They don't,” Namjoon confirmed. “But Jin doesn't mention him, either. I think whenever they meet up it's strictly to talk about the company.”

“The company,” Hoseok repeated, deep in thought. “Wait, what’s the company name, again?” Silence settled over the living room as he and Yoongi turned to Namjoon, apparently expecting an answer. “Joonie?”

“I… don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know?” Yoongi barked out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re his fucking boyfriend, aren't you?”

“He doesn't like to talk about it,” Namjoon insisted. “I don't make him talk about stuff he’s sensitive to.”

Silence.

“Guess that makes sense,” Hoseok mumbled, sinking back against the couch with a little huff. “I don't really know why he can't share the company name, though, but oh well.”

Everyone jumped when Namjoon’s phone rang. He answered it quick as lightning. “Jin hyung?”

Yoongi couldn't hear what Jin was saying, but Hoseok tried to crawl over his lap and press his ear to the speaker, making Namjoon shove his head out of the way and stand up to walk away to the kitchen. Yoongi could see the relief on Namjoon's face as he asked, “So you’re okay?” Apparently, he was, because the younger man smiled and sighed in relief. “You fucking scared me, babe. Don't go off the radar like that again!”

The rest of the conversation was inaudible, so Yoongi sighed and stood up to stretch. They had been worried over absolutely nothing, and he was a little embarrassed for getting so worked up. Jin was a grown ass man, and he could take care of himself. Besides, Yoongi couldn't count how many times he had completely gone off the radar and refused to respond to any texts.

When Namjoon finished the call he padded back into the living room, looking a lot less stressed and more relieved than anything. “He’s okay,” he said with a chuckle as he shook his head, a little disbelieving. “He was at his dad’s and he’s coming home tonight.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hoseok whined. “That's boring.”

“Boring?” Yoongi snorted, cocking a brow.

“Yeah, he was supposed to call and tell you that he was being held captive in Brazil, or something.”

“That's a little…” Yoongi trailed off and made a weird face at his best friend.

“Is it alright if I stay until he comes back?” Namjoon asked Hoseok, ignoring the guy’s latest comment about captivity in Brazil.

“Suuuure, we don't want a whipped boyfriend all alone at his OWN house,” he replied sarcastically. Namjoon just rolled his eyes.

“Well, I'm gonna hit the road,” Yoongi said suddenly. “Better get home before it's too late.”

“Aww,” Hoseok pouted, grabbing his friend’s hand and yanking him down. “Why? Stay here a while, Yoons.”

“I'm tired,” Yoongi said, a little whiny himself. “And I have work tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Hoseok relented, moving his hand to slap him playfully on the ass, causing Yoongi to jerk and let out a sound of annoyance. “But next time you’re staying and we’re watching Gilmore Girls.”

Yoongi chuckled and shook his head. “Whatever you want, Hobi. See you later, guys.” He ruffled Hoseok’s hair and made sure he had his phone before starting out the door. He closed it just as Hoseok was yelling something about saying hi to Jeremy for him, and trudged down the stairs and back into the street.

Just as he was climbing onto the subway his phone gave a little ping and Yoongi dug around in his pockets and pulled it out to find a message from Jimin. It was simple but also so flustering Yoongi coughed loudly and a forest fire seemed to rip through his body as he did a second take, making sure he saw the words right and his eyes hadn't betrayed him.

 

 **ChimChim:** I'm touching myself

 **ChimChim:** and thinking of u

 

Yoongi just stared at the text, more confused than he had been going through puberty. It was a bold move, he could admit that. He didn't think Jimin was so straightforward. Check that off the list of things Yoongi didn't know about him.

Yet, he was so flustered he had to hide his face in his hands. Now- on the subway- was not the best place to pop a boner. But, objectively, he was already on his way. What happened to going slow? Yoongi should have just texted Jimin first; he wouldn't have ended up sporting a hard-on in the middle of the public transport subway. This just made everything so confusing because they hadn't talked about what -this meant ever since Wednesday night. Now it was as if Jimin had punched him the gut, and all logical thoughts seemed to melt away into the cracks of his brain because now he was only thinking about getting home and touching himself. It was like he was back in highschool- horny and jerking off around the clock just to satisfy his childish desires.

But now it wasn't a fantasy because Jimin had just _texted_ him and told him that he was thinking about Yoongi while pleasuring himself. And, damn, he could imagine Jimin spread out under him as he practically jogged out of the station and down the street to his own apartment.

Ten minutes later he finally burst through the door and Jeremy bounded towards him and almost knocked him over, but Yoongi shoved his off with a disgusted huff and toed off his shoes, trying his best to take his time instead of coming across as frantic as he walked to his room and closed the door. He stripped off his shirt and fell onto his bed, jeans straining.

 

 **ChimChim:** srry did that come across to weird?

 **ChimChim:** forget i said anything

 

Yoongi looked at the text and typed out a frantic response.

 

 **Yoongi:** fuck no

 **Yoongi:** ur so hot

 **ChimChim:** u finally responded (*＾▽＾)／

 

He was a little caught off guard by the emoji and chuckled.

 

 **Yoongi:** i was on the subway when u texted

 **Yoongi:** i had a boner in front of like 20 ppl

 **ChimChim:** where r u now?

 **Yoongi:** home

 **Yoongi:** bed

 **ChimChim:** ….

 **Yoongi:** I want to talk about THIS later

 

They both knew what ‘THIS’ meant. Whatever they were doing. This half-assed attempt at a relationship.

 

 **Yoongi:** but i'm also hard

 **ChimChim:** I havnt finished

 

Yoongi let out a low groan and palmed himself through his jeans.

 

 **Yoongi:** fuk its been like 15 min

 **ChimChim:** ik i was waiting for u

 **Yoongi:** fuck jimin

 **Yoongi:** u aren't usually so… suggestive ;)

 **ChimChim:** stop teasing hyung

 **ChimChim:** :(

 **ChimChim:** I wish I was w u

 **ChimChim:** i wish u were touching me

 

_

 

 

The next morning Yoongi went into work feeling great. Taehyung had a coffee waiting for him on his desk- it was the younger’s day off from school- and he downed the whole thing in five minutes. The morning was lazy, just Yoongi and Tae joking around until they both spotted Jimin and another man outside the window. But something was off because Taehyung gasped loudly and dropped the pencil he was holding to sketch on Yoongi’s notepad.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked, eyebrows creasing together. A million things whipped through him at once. Jimin was looking as beautiful as ever, but his eyes were too large and a little too milky to be considered normal. Yoongi almost forgot what had happened last night because he was overtaken with concern as they came closer to the entrance and he clearly saw the man’s fingers digging into Jimin’s wrist as he dragged the younger towards the door.

And wait- hold on- he _knew_ that guy.

He was with that nice girl at the gala, Yoongi remembered. The bitchy ‘right-hand man’ who tried to pick a fight with Jimin. What was his name? Juno? Jungmo?

“Tae what the hell-”

It was too late because the guy had already burst through the door, Jimin in tow looking desperate and teary.

Yoongi first instinct was to dumbly say, “Jimin?”

Jimin looked up at him. First he blushed- probably recollecting last night’s events- but then he took on a pleading look, silently asking Yoongi for something. But he couldn't figure out what the younger was trying to convey…

“Min Yoongi!” the guy greeted enthusiastically, much too mocking to be considered friendly. “It's been too long.”

Yoongi took one last look and Jimin and turned his hard eyes to the guy. “Sorry, I can't seem to remember your name. Jun-toe or something?”

The guy visibly bristled and his grip on Jimin’s wrist tightened, and the younger let out a little helpless squeak. “Ahn Junhoe,” he hissed.

“Let him go,” Yoongi said instead, voice flat.

“I'm sorry?”

“Yoongi-” Taehyung said quietly, trying his best to let him know that you  _didn't_ mess with Mr. Kim’s right-hand man.

“You heard me,” he deadpanned, ignoring Taehyung's frantic hissing. “Let him go.”

Junhoe’s lip turned up in a disgusted frown, but he surprised everyone and let go of Jimin’s wrist.

“Good, now we can chat,” Yoongi said with a mockingly sweet smile, like awarding a kindergartener with a star sticker. “So why do I owe the pleasure of seeing you this morning?”

Junhoe stiffened and crossed his arms. “Your precious Jimin is here for a certain tattoo.”

Yoongi frowned. “And does he want this certain tattoo?”

“He doesn't have a fucking _choice_ ,” the man laughed, ugly beady eyes crinkling shut. “I have permission from Mr. Kim. If you don't tattoo him I can kill you.”

“Junhoe,” Jimin hissed, finally speaking up. “Leave him out of this.”

“Aww, wanna protect your faggot boyfriend?” Junhoe cooed. “That's too bad, darling because you act like you’re so much better than me but I'm not the one being dragged to a tattoo parlor, huh? Just shut up and get the tattoo, this will all be over.”

Yoongi wanted so bad to punch the guy, but he knew it would backfire on himself and Jimin. It wasn't any use.

“So?” Junhoe said suddenly, turning back to Yoongi. “Gonna do it or do I need to get my gun out? Mr. Kim won't be pleased when he hears about this, you know.”

“I’ll do it,” Yoongi said, pointedly and stern. “Go have a seat, _sir_.”

“Sure,” Junhoe smirked, “But make sure you tattoo it right on his arm. Right smack in the middle. Make it noticeable, Min.”

“Sure thing, Ahn,” Yoongi hissed, gathering all the will he had not to knock the bastard out. Taehyung’s eyes were wide on Yoongi. He didn't understand why the kid wasn't saying anything.

Junhoe walked back to the waiting area with a smirk plastered on his face and sat down on the couch to flip through a Playboy magazine. Jimin stared at Yoongi with big watery eyes. Taehyung turned and walked into his piercing room and slammed the door.

With an awkward cough, Yoongi said, ”Common, Jimin,” and let him deeper into the parlor.

Jimin hesitated but followed Yoongi to his station and sat down in the chair as the tattooer directed. Once he had made sure Junhoe was fully distracted by the magazine Jimin whispered, “Hyung,” in the most pleading voice that Yoongi almost dropped the ink bottle. “Please.”

“I have to do what he says,” Yoongi said loudly, shrugging his shoulders.

Jimin lowered his head and bit his lip.

Yoongi transferred the stencil onto Jimin’s clammy arm, trying to keep the act up as he sat down in his swivel chair and snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and wiped down his arm softly, trying to convey his thoughts through his tender motions. Once everything was in order, he dipped the tattoo gun tip into the black ink and started outlining the tattoo. The buzz of the pen filled the air, but Yoongi could still hear Jimin’s sniffles.

After it was halfway done, Jimin muttered quietly, “I'm being fucking branded by you.” There were tears in his voice.

Yoongi couldn't keep up the act anymore and wiped away some blood, trying to look natural as he whispered, “It's temporary ink.”

“What?” Jimin whispered back, leaning down to hear him better.

Yoongi wasn't going to tell him until Jimin got home and he was alone, but it was too much seeing the boy in tears as he branded a mafia symbol onto his skin. “Temporary,” Yoongi repeated quietly, digging the rapidly moving needle back into Jimin’s reddening skin. “The ink.”

Jimin seemed to melt to butter under his touch as he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Hyung,” he muttered, voice full of affection. “-God, I don't deserve you.”

Yoongi’s heart seemed to jump into his throat and his face burned at the words, but he just nodded easily, as if they were making simple conversation. He wiped the extra ink away, but this time massaged soothing circles into Jimin’s arm before pulling back. “I'm almost done,” he said, a little louder this time to gain Junhoe’s attention.

Jimin grabbed his wrist and quietly said, “Come to mine after work?”

Yoongi swallowed and nodded.

Junhoe got up off the couch and sauntered over to them and grabbed Jimin’s arm, wrenching it up so he could see the tattoo. “Huh. Doesn't look bad,” he said. Jimin glared daggers at the man and ferociously pulled his arms from Junhoe’s hand. “Good job, Min. For a second I thought I was going to need to get out my gun.”

“No need for that,” Yoongi said easily, but inside he was raging.

He made sure everything looked alright, then he wrapped the tattoo up just to make it look real. He took his time ‘explaining’ how to take care of the tattoo to Jimin in an effort to piss off Junhoe. “So leave the wrap on for about 2-3 hours,” he said slowly, facing Jimin and looking him straight in the eyes. Unspoken words seemed to surge between them. “After you remove the bandage you need to wash it with warm water and soap. Make sure your hands are clean, okay? That prevents infections.”

Junhoe was definitely getting antsy, tapping his foot on the ground rapidly as he waited for Jimin.

“Then dry the tattoo,” Yoongi continued, even slower as he drew out all the syllables. “Apply this healing ointment.”

Jimin was trying to hold in his laughs, and Junhoe seemed to catch on. “Okay, Min. We’ll go now. Thank you,” he said sarcastically.

“Alright,” Yoongi shrugged, trying to hold in a smile himself. “I'm sure I’ll see you later when you come in to get branded, Junhoe.”

“Fuck off,” he shot childishly, grabbing Jimin’s arm and dragging him out of the studio.

Yoongi wanted to punch him for treating Jimin like a piece of meat, but he knew it would end badly for both of them so he kept his mouth shut and just waved as they left. As soon as they were out of sight he grabbed his phone and texted Jimin.

 

 **Yoongi:** u ok?

 

The response came an hour later, probably when Jimin had gotten out of work.

 

 **ChimChim:** yeah

 **ChimChim:** sorry abt junhoe

 **ChimChim:** hes a butt

 **Yoongi:** don't say sorry for him

 **Yoongi:** i wanted to punch him when he touched u

 **ChimChim:** lol thx

 **Yoongi** : i get off work @ 5

 **ChimChim:** come over?

 **Yoongi:** didn't i say i would??

 **ChimChim:** lol yes

 **ChimChim:** we have a lot to tlk abt

 

And Yoongi agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 I know my recent chapters have been short af, but I hope to make it up with some smut in the next ch lol
> 
> See you next Saturday :)
> 
> XXX


	14. A Decided Relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I would be on time on the last update but I'm a whopping 2 DAYS LATE :0 It's like life had been kicking me in the ass- between school and my health issues- so I'm really sorry for the late (and really short chapter) but I hope I make up for it in the amount of fluff I packed in here <3

Yoongi knocked on the glossy red door then shoved his hands into the pockets of his big sweatshirt. He rubbed his tongue piercing along the roof of his mouth in almost a nervous manner as he waited for Jimin to show up at the door or at least tell him to come in.

Finally, after what seemed like a century, the door swung open and Jimin fisted his hand in Yoongi’s hoodie to drag him inside and practically slam him against the wall. Yoongi didn't even have time to properly look at him because Jimin was already kissing down his neck and tangling his hands in Yoongi’s thick black hair.

“J-Jimin,” Yoongi gasped when Jimin sucked hard on a spot just under his jaw. He didn't stop, though, and popped off his neck and attacked Yoongi’s lips instead. The kiss was too frantic and wild, exposing a level of desperateness that had worry pooling in Yoongi’s stomach. It felt so _good_ \- but it didn't feel like _Jimin_. “Hey,” he said, pushing Jimin back by the shoulders. His tone was firm yet full of concern.

Jimin stumbled backward, panting hard as his eyes became wide with alarm. His lips were a rosy shade of pink, abused and chapped. The lights in the apartment were off- a trend that seemed quite familiar- and the lights that seeped through the windows seemed to bathe Jimin in a spectrum of color and light his eyes with a fire of passion and lust. “Shit, hyung, I'm sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked gently, reaching out to cup Jimin’s jaw and bring him closer, trying to tell the boy that what he just did was _okay_ , but he was just _worried_.

Jimin closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, lips parting slightly. Yoongi felt a fire erupt through his body at the sight.

After a long silence, Yoongi muttered, “Jimin. You can talk to me.”

“I-I know,” Jimin whispered, pulling away slightly and looking him in the eyes. He was wearing lazy clothes- grey joggers and a loose black t-shirt- but he managed to make it look so effortlessly flawless and beautiful. “But you make me feel so many things.”

Yoongi didn't know what that meant, but he felt a blush creep across his cheeks nonetheless. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he voiced.

“I'm-not sure,” Jimin giggled softly, sounding a little nervous. “I was just confused when you left Wednesday night and then last night… well, I didn't really know what happened. I didn't know if it was just a fling-”

“Oh, God, no,” Yoongi cut in, shaking his head. “I'm not looking for a one night stand.”

Jimin seemed to melt with relief.

“What did you expect?” Yoongi chuckled softly, thumbing at Jimin’s neck gently. “I literally told you I liked you and then we kissed and I told you to take it slow.”

Jimin giggled again, scratching his head. “Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He glanced at Yoongi’s neck. “I guess I forgot to take it slow,” he laughed. “Sorry. I shouldn't have jumped you. I just- feel a lot of things towards you and-” he raised his arm where the fake tattoo sat- “I'm also thankful to have you in my life, hyung.” He looked down at the tattoo and frowned. “I thought you had actually branded me, hyung.”

Yoongi had to stop himself from cooing at the younger man. “I would never do that. I hope you know that.”

“I-I trust you,” Jimin said, letting his arm fall to his side. “But it just seemed real.”

“I know.”

“Hyung, I really like you.”

“I would think so,” Yoongi quipped sarcastically, “You literally texted me last night telling me you were touching yourself at the thought of me.”

“Hyung!” Jimin whined, blushing furiously and hiding his face his tiny hands. “I-I-well… hey! You were doing it too, hyung!”

It was Yoongi’s turn to blush. “Only because you texted me first!” he insisted.

“You’re such a child! Don't argue with me,” Jimin laughed, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “I’ll always win.”

“Taehyung tells me you are very headstrong,” Yoongi mused, rolling his eyes. “He’s always coming in the studio with a new story about you.”

Jimin smiled triumphantly. “Good.”

All of the sudden, the doorbell rang and Jimin squeaked in surprise. Yoongi only quirked a brow at the door, inquiring who the visitor was. “I- uh- ordered a pizza,” Jimin explained with a little laugh, rushing to get the door.

“Pizza?” Yoongi perked up.

Jimin opened the door and a small pimple-faced boy stood nervously in the doorway holding a box of pizza. Yoongi could smell it from the entrance hallway and padded to the door next to Jimin, looking over his shoulder at the boy and sneaking an arm around Jimin’s waist, causing the younger to jump a bit but bite back a smile.

“Uh, Park Jimin?” the pimple boy asked, glancing down at Yoongi’s arm around his customer’s waist then shooting his eyes up to the receipt on the box to make sure he had the correct address, then back down at Yoongi’s arm. He seemed surprised at the tattoos and swallowed nervously.

Poor kid. He must have thought he had delivered the pizza to a gangster.

“That's me,” Jimin nodded with a friendly smile. “Hyung, can you go grab my wallet? It's on the kitchen island.”

Yoongi detached himself from Jimin’s side with a nod and padded into the dim kitchen. The leather wallet was easy to find because it happened to be the only thing on the marble countertop, so he grabbed it and came back to the doorway where Jimin was making polite conversation with the delivery boy.

“How much do I owe you?” Jimin asked, grabbing his wallet from Yoongi’s hands with a small ‘thank you’.

“Uhm-,” he glanced down at the receipt again, “-15,000 won.”

Jimin nodded and pulled out 25,000. He handed it to the boy with a sweet smile. “Keep the rest.”

The boy’s eyes lit up as he took the money with a bow. “Thank you, sir!”

Jimin giggled at the honorific and waved him off. “Have a nice evening.”

“You too, sir!” The boy turned on his heel and scampered down the hallway.

“Cute,” Jimin muttered as he closed the door.

Yoongi flashed him a gummy smile and grabbed the pizza box from his arms. “Pizza, huh?”

“I thought we both deserved some greasy food,” Jimin shrugged and pulled Yoongi along with him to the kitchen where he turned on the warm recess lights and sat down at the island. Yoongi sat down across from him and opened the pizza box, inhaling the smell loudly which caused Jimin to giggle. “Gross, hyung. Don't get your germs on the pizza,” he joked and grabbed a slice.

“We literally just kissed.”

“Okay, but that’s different.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and took a huge bite of the pizza. “Hey, why did Junhoe drag you to the parlor anyway, Jimin?”  
J  
imin groaned and threw his head back. “He has been fucking with me ever since the gala. After some meeting we had today he asked me why I didn't have a mafia tattoo yet, and I told him I just didn't want one. Well, guess what he did then?”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows in question.

“He literally called Mr. Kim.”

“Why the hell would he do that?” Yoongi asked, annoyed.

“To ask him if ‘everyone in the mafia needed a tattoo’. As expected, Mr. Kim said yes, so Junhoe dragged me to the studio.”

“Shit,” Yoongi grumbled, carding a hand through his black hair. “I can't explain how fucking mad I was at him, Jimin. I hate when people treat you like that.”

Jimin giggled sweetly as a blush dusted his cheeks. “You’re cute, hyung.”

Yoongi wrinkled his nose at the words. “Cute my ass.”

“Your ass is cute, too,” he teased.

“That's not what-”

Jimin giggled.

“I just want you out of there,” Yoongi finally cut in. “I can't fucking stand it any longer. Everyone there treats you shit, you’re forced to kill people, you’re forced to get a tattoo, I don't even know what else goes on in that hell hole.”

Jimin felt his eyes watering a little, but he quickly swallowed down the feeling and answered, “I'm almost out, hyung. I promise. Just a little bit longer. I think someone is after Mr. Kim right now, and if they kill him I’ll make my escape.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Actually, it's one of his children’s childhood friends.”

“Huh,” Yoongi muttered. “That's weird. Why would his kid’s friend be against Mr. Kim?”

“Monetary reasons,” he explained and grabbed another slice of pizza. “He smuggled drugs into Seoul against Mr. Kim’s wishes to make money himself without giving the proceeds to the mafia.”

“Is that what that guy mentioned at the gala?”

“Yeah.”

Silence engulfed them because there was simply nothing else to say. Jimin was virtually still in the same position, but Yoongi was going to be patient and wait for him. It didn't matter at this point, because Yoongi was in too deep and he couldn't turn his back on Jimin now, not after he had fallen so hard.

“How’s Jeremy?”

Yoongi coughed at the sudden shift in conversation, then let out a low laugh. “He’s… good? I honestly don't like dogs, but this one is okay I guess. He looks scary, though. Wait- let me show you a picture.” Yoongi fished his phone from the pocket of his jeans and showed Jimin the picture he took of the big guard dog. Jeremy had his head on Yoongi’s bare chest, big sad brown eyes looking at the camera.

“Whoa, that’s a huge dog!” Jimin exclaimed as he grabbed the phone and shoved it closer to his face. “Aww, he’s precious! Cute!”

Yoongi chuckled at the younger’s reaction and took his phone back. “Yeah, he’s a big softie.”

“Kinda like you,” Jimin observed with a sly smirk.

“Don't compare me to a dog,” Yoongi said in mock offense.

“I would never do such a thing,” he said innocently.

“Of course not.”

They finished dinner over an incessant amount of teasing and then Jimin walked to the fridge and went for the inside door. Yoongi knew exactly what he was reaching for, and his theory was proven correct when Jimin pulled out two beer bottles and settled back down at the counter, sliding one of the glasses across the counter where Yoongi caught it against his fingertips. “You like to drink a lot, don't you?” Yoongi observed. He wasn't trying to be rude or judgemental, but he hadn't pretended to ignore the rows of alcohol in Jimin’s fridge.

“Yeah. I picked it up in high school. Bad habit, I guess,” Jimin shrugged, eyes downcast. “It helped a little. Well, it used to. I've cut back a lot, though.”

“That's good,” Yoongi nodded, taking a small sip from his beer.

“So… like… what's your favorite color?”

That was… out of the blue. “Huh?” Yoongi chuckled, scrunching his nose up.

“I don't know your favorite color yet,” Jimin said innocently.

“Okay,” he laughed, “Mine is green, I think. I've never really thought about it. What about you?”

Jimin tapped his chip thoughtfully. “Blue. Like waves.”

“Why do you paint so many waves?” Yoongi asked offhandedly. “They’re really pretty, though. You’re very talented.”

Jimin blushed at the compliment. “Waves make me feel calm for some reason,” he shrugged, finger tracing the rim of his bottle. “They just look… peaceful? I dunno.”

“I guess they do,” Yoongi murmured, eyeing the endless blue paintings around the apartment. He had never really thought of waves as peaceful, but now he kind of understood. “Where are you from?” he asked later, catching onto the Q&A type interview. If they were going to make this- relationship?- work, they were going to need to actually know about each other. Yoongi felt like the only side of Jimin he knew extremely well was the sniper side. He knew about the mafia, but the younger was so much more than another member in a mafia. He was his own person with his own story and his own favorite color, and favorite book, and his own relationships. Yoongi wanted to know everything about him no matter how dirty it might be, because he was quite dirty himself.

“Busan,” Jimin replied easily. “I didn't like it there, if I'm being honest.”

“Why?” Yoongi had never been to Busan; he had never had a need. Now that he thought about it, he might have driven through a couple of times on the way to the beach with Hoseok.

Jimin shrugged. “I used to think the only opportunity was in Seoul, so I moved here to go to college.”

“Do you wish you stayed in Busan?” Yoongi asked, worrying his lip. He mentally smacked himself- because of course he would have wanted to stay in Busan. Seoul is the place where he was forced into a mafia, not Busan. If it was Yoongi, he would have regretted ever leaving his hometown.

“Sometimes,” Jimin said, a sort of wistful look in his eyes as he glanced out the windows. “But now that you- I mean, now that I met you- I've stopped thinking about it so much. I've stopped regretting my decisions.”

Yoongi felt his chest puff up with pride. He had done that? Shit, he really didn't deserve a guy like Jimin.

The younger glanced back over at him, fondness clear in his eyes, and took a sip of his beer. “You know, the first time I walked into your tattoo studio with Jungkookie-” he laughed softly and carded a hand through his hair- “I thought you were a thug.”

Yoongi snorted.

“It's true,” Jimin chuckled. “I wish I had known sooner that you were so… kind.”

“Kind,” Yoongi repeated quietly, not quite believing the words he heard. Not many people had referred to him as ‘kind’. More often than not he was ‘Stubborn’ or ‘Uncaring’. He put up a front and acted like he didn't give a shit, and he really did enjoy just letting things blow by instead of caring too much or worrying over stupid problems, but he also cared for people. It was more of a subtle care, though, and many people didn't pick up on it even when he tried his best to show them.

“So where are you from?” Jimin asked after a long, yet comfortable silence.

“Daegu,” he replied.

“Really? Why’d you move to Seoul?”

“To open a parlor,” Yoongi explained. “I worked as an apprentice for one in Daegu, but I wanted to start my own. I moved for kinda the same reason as you, I guess. Thought there was a lot of opportunity in Seoul.”

“I mean, neither of us was really wrong,” Jimin observed with a slight tug of his lips. “There’s a shit ton of opportunity here.”

“True,” Yoongi agreed, “I guess I wasn't such an idiot after all.”

“I guess not.”

They both chuckled and sipped their beer in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was short but I hoped you liked it anyways lol. A lot of action w/ the mafia in the near future, so enjoy the fluff while it lasts heheheh
> 
> Thank you SOO much for 200 kudos I screamed really loud!!!
> 
> I love you all so much and I can't wait to share new stories with you :) 
> 
> I started this story because I wanted to improve on my writing (because let's be honest, it sucks) so thank you for sticking with me. IDK why but it seems like a little family haha. Can you believe its been over 2 months since we started?


	15. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimin is a bit doubtful of this new relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, look who's going through a rough patch with their writing??? Me!! I'm late once again but I've decided to change the 'official' update day to Monday. 
> 
> Lmao, anyway, hope you enjoy

The night went by slowly, but it was nice. Jimin managed to keep his hands to himself, even when they curled up on the couch and flicked the TV on to watch some cooking show. It was only until the clock struck midnight and Yoongi said he should get going because he had work the next morning that Jimin reached out for the elder. Yoongi grabbed his hand and squeezed it with a small, sleepy grin. “You wanna like…” Yoongi trailed off and looked at the floor with a discreet blush. “I dunno, go on a date sometime?”

Jimin hadn't seen the older so flustered and it made his heart flutter like someone had released a bird in there. Yoongi seemed so hard on the outside, so uncaring, but Jimin had stripped him bare and left this easily flustered guy standing in front of him, holding his hand like a lifeline. “Sure,” Jimin giggled, squeezing his hand back. Yoongi frowned, probably wondering why he was laughing, but he laced their finger together anyway. The simple action made Jimin’s heart beat even faster than before, if possible, and he thought it was going to burst from his chest and fly around the apartment like a canary.

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” Yoongi said as he detached his hand from Jimin’s small paw and grabbed his sweatshirt from where he had flung it over the couch’s backrest. His eyes were droopy with sleep but the subdued gummy smile was still slapped on his face which made Jimin grin, too, as if the happiness were a disease.

“Thanks for coming,” Jimin said while he walked Yoongi to the door. He lifted his arm up and motioned to the fake tattoo. “And thanks for this.”

“It's nothing,” he dismissed, reaching out for the doorknob. “I didn't really know how to say no to Junhoe, anyway. Especially after he threatened to whip his damn gun out.”

“I would have run away by now if I were you,” Jimin mumbled, glancing down at his fidgeting hands. “Not many people are okay with… guns. Not regular people, anyway.”

“Hey, you think I'm just _regular_?” Yoongi asked in mock offense.

“You know what I mean, hyung,” he whined.

“Yeah, I know. I've seen some shit in my life, Jimin, this isn't totally foreign to me,” Yoongi shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, but he’s sure his voice betrayed him. He didn't want to talk about it right now, but his brother had a tendency to fuck around with gangs back when he still lived with mom, and Yoongi often found himself dragging his little brother’s unconscious body into the small apartment bathroom at 1 am, pressing a dish towel to his head in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Yoongi had never been exposed to the violence, but he did know the effects it had on people.

“It's not?” Jimin asked, beautiful brown eyes growing large.

“Not really,” he muttered. “But we can talk about that later, okay?”

“O-Oh, okay.” Jimin held the door open for Yoongi as he walked out into the hallway. “Goodnight, hyung.”

“Night, Jimin. Talk to you later.” Yoongi glanced back at him one more time, and Jimin thought the elder might try to kiss him, but Yoongi just flashed him a smile and turned to walk down the hall.

The elevator doors closed behind him with a soft breath of air, and Jimin turned and walked back into his dim apartment, canary still fluttering madly in his heart.

 

-

 

Jisu wanted to meet up to discuss the capture and possible killing of Bae Hyeok, so after class on Thursday, he trudged through the empty bar and down the steps to her office. He rapped on the door softly and repositioned his backpack on his shoulder. “Come in,” she called, so he pushed inside the cozy office. He could hear the sizzle of boiling water, and he glanced over to the small heater where an old kettle sat, two teacups next to it. “Thirsty?”

“Very,” Jimin replied, dropping his backpack by the door and walking to the kettle to pour the tea. Jisu’s office was comfy in an old, broken down kind of way. Sure, there were glossy new television screens lining the wall behind her desk and half the room was dedicated to computer equipment, but the red Persian carpet reminded Jimin of his grandmother’s house, and the two big oak chairs across from her desk with colorful, tassel pillows on them remained as sturdy as when she first got them.

“Did you manage to get into Number’s database?” Jimin asked, carefully handing a chipped teacup to Jisu who was sitting behind her desk, staring at a computer screen. Her hair was greasy and messy, and her eyes were darker than should be considered healthy- the mark of both a hacker and a mafia worker. Her cheeks seemed a little hollow, but she ignored Jimin when he asked when she had last eaten.

“No,” she groaned, finally taking those tired eyes off the screen and taking a long sip of tea. “I feel like I'm so _close_ , but their security is amazing. I honestly didn't know they were this powerful. Who knows what they’re hiding behind those closed doors, huh?”

“Dirty secrets,” Jimin suggested.

“Probably.” She sighed and set her cup down on the coffee-stained desk, then glanced at the Jimin’s backpack which had been thrown by the door. “You just come from school or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for calling you over here,” she said.

“No problem. So, did you find Hyeok’s location or something?”

“Something like that,” she mumbled and turned back towards one of the numerous computer screens to tap frantically on the keyboard. “I found some little facts about him you might find interesting.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He tried to leave the mafia two years after he joined, for unknown reasons. That was eight years ago.”

“He’s been in the mafia for eight years?” Jimin questioned, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Yeah. A lot of information from his profile has been erased, though,” she said, worrying her bottom lip.

“Huh? What do you mean ‘been erased’? By who? We’re not allowed to erase information, right?”

“Nope, it goes against mafia regulations. If it's in the system, it can't come back out.”

“Then who erased it?” he asked. “Do you think it was Numbers?”

“Doubt it,” she shrugged. “It’s not easy getting around out firewall, I can't imagine they know how to do it. Besides, his profile was hidden in the first place.”

“What does that mean?”

“Someone- probably someone of importance- buried his profile deep into our database. It was moved three years ago into a locked profile even I can't access.”

“Who the hell would do that?” Jimin asked, mind confused and foggy. He didn't really understand of his hacking stuff in the first place, but this just jumbled him even more.

“Dunno. All I know is that Hyeok’s profile was accessible on the mafia database three years ago, but since then it’s been moved into a maximum security file only certain people can access, and I have no idea why.” Jisu was frowning now, lip starting to bleed from all the biting she had done.

“Shit,” Jimin breathed, baffled. What was he supposed to do with this? It’s not like he was a hacker. “Do you know who  _can_ access the file?“

"I assume Mr. Kim and only the people he selected,” she shrugged. “But I doubt he would give me access. That type of information is dangerous.”

“So Mr. Kim wants us to capture this guy but won't give us any information on him?” he hissed. “Why the hell does that make any sense?”

“It doesn't,” Jisu agreed, “That's why I think Mr. Kim has nothing to do with this.”

“What?”

“I think Mr. Kim ordered the capture of this guy, but I don't think he knows Hyeok’s information, or why his profile is locked up,” she said. “I don't think he locked the profile, either.”

Jimin groaned, throwing his head back against the chair. “This is too confusing. Who do you think even had the power to access that information?”

She shrugged and took a sip of tea. “I called Junhoe earlier, but he said he didn't have the codes or passwords to the file. He didn't know who could access it, either.”

“Well if Mr. Kim’s right-hand man doesn't even know, we’re all screwed,” Jimin grumbled, brows furrowed in an angry line. “Mr. Kim expects us to find this guy without any information. Information that  _He_ has.”

“I'm going to set up a meeting with him,” Jisu said with a nod.

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah. Junhoe said he could try to get Mr. Kim on a conference call with us.”

“That's...risky,” Jimin muttered.

“How so?”

“I don't want Mr. Kim to get the idea that we’re doubting his orders.”

“I'm sure he’ll understand,” Jisu said, but she didn't sound convinced herself. She sighed again, leaning back in her seat and propping her feet on the desk. “I’ll have Junhoe call you when we get the meeting confirmed. And, Jimin, please be nice to him. I know you don't like Junhoe, but we really can't afford to be on his bad side right now.” Her voice was a little whiny, almost begging Jimin to keep his temper under control until they sort this thing out.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try my best,” Jimin huffed childishly.

“Alright, you can go. I was hoping you knew about the files, but seeing that we’re both in the dark here…” she glanced back towards the computer screen, “Whatever, things will work out.”

“I hope so,” Jimin sighed, getting up and placing his used teacup back on the counter by the stove. He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, then threw a glance back at Jisu, who had her nose buried back in the screen. “You’re doing a good job, noona.”

She finally looked up, surprised at the honorifics. They had dropped those years ago after they had started working together. “You too, Jimin.”

He held up his fist and turned towards the door. “Fighting!”

“Fighting,” she repeated, voice cutting off as Jimin shut the door and started down the dim hallway.

The bar had just opened, and now, as Jimin pushed open the heavy door to the first floor, the place had started to fill up with noise. He would have grabbed a drink and taken a well-deserved break, but nowadays he barely had any time to finish school work. He had to finish his tiger painting for class in hopes that his teacher would pick him to display some of his work in an exhibition. It was a great opportunity to display his art and gather job offers, but mafia work had pushed it onto the backburner once again and stole all of his time.

Just as Jimin pushed through the doors out into the cold air, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out and found a text from Yoongi.

 

Yoongi: hey

Yoongi: how was class today?

 

Just seeing the text made his heart swell with appreciation and something dangerously close to love. It had only been two days since their small confessions, and neither of them has had any time to actually go out on a real date. Yoongi’s been drowning in XTC tattoos, and Jimin’s finding it hard to juggle mafia life and college life at the same time. Yoongi made it very clear he wanted a relationship, and Jimin definitely made it clear, so there was nothing to worry about. He didn't want to put labels on it yet and start calling Yoongi his boyfriend; he was content with their relationship as it was. Take it slow, is what Yoongi said.

 

 **ChimChim:** hi hyung (* ^ ω ^)

 **ChimChim:** class was ok but i have to finish a painting that's due tomorrow

 **ChimChim:** and i had a meeting with xtcs hacker today :(((

 **Yoongi:** ryly? Is everything ok?

 **ChimChim:** yeah we just need to figure sum things out about this one bad guy

 **Yoongi:** i swear u live in a movie

 **ChimChim:** haha ikr

 **ChimChim:** wyd?

 **Yoongi:** a customer just left so i'm taking a break

 **Yoongi:** taehyung says hi btw

 

Jimin giggled, and then covered his mouth because he remembered he was in public.

 

 **ChimChim:** tell him i said hi back :)

 **ChimChim:** if i finish my painting in time ill come over and bring dinner to the studio

 **Yoongi:** what about a date?

 **Yoongi:** I know a place you might like that sells the best fried chicken

 

Jimin blushed, for reasons even he couldn't understand, and his inner teenage-girl was screaming as he typed a response with shaking fingers.

 

 **ChimChim:** sure

 **ChimChim:** i’ll come to the studio after classes and we can go where u want ( ´ ω ` )

 **Yoongi:** k sounds good

 **ChimChim:** i gtg but we can talk tomorrow ;)

 **Yoongi:** good luck on ur painting

 **Yoongi:** see u

 **ChimChim:** ヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ

 

-

 

Jimin wasn't clueless, he understood that nobody- not even Yoongi- could be completely on board with the whole idea of being in a relationship with a criminal. It was just impossible, and he understood that. He was going against the law- killing people for heaven's sakes. There was no excuse to get around that. He was afraid. Would this relationship work out? How could they even be together when Jimin was constantly breaking the law?

Doubt was seeping into his mind and insecurity seemed to burst from his pores. He was starting to fall into this endless pit of unanswered questions, and he could barely sleep Thursday night. He laid on top of the silk sheets on his huge king sized bed and stared out the window, watching the sparkling lights of the city glow under the moon. His room was too empty right now, too lonely. He couldn't stop thinking about how this relationship was going to work out.

One thing about Jimin was this- when he got an idea stuck in his mind, he couldn't get out and it ate him from the inside out. It just continued to get progressively worse, and there was no more room for logical thinking.

He didn't finish the painting that night.

 

-

Friday

Yoongi was looking forward to the evening all day, and he managed to finish all of his tattoos with flawless results. It was a great day, and he would shamelessly admit that he was spurred on by the idea of his first date with Jimin. He hadn't felt this good in… years.

“Why are you so happy today, hyung?” Taehyung asked. He was sitting on top of the counter, idly playing with one of his piercings as he swung his legs back and forth. He had just finished up with his last customer for the day, so they were both lazily lounging around the studio. The kid must have noticed Yoongi’s stupid happy grin.

“I can't be happy?” Yoongi asked in monotone.

“You know what I mean, hyung!” he whined, jumping down from the counter and bouncing over to where Yoongi was sketching on the couch.

Yoongi didn't know if he should tell Taehyung about their new relationship or if Jimin wanted to keep it a secret. He couldn't imagine why Jimin would want to keep this kind of information away from his best friend, but he didn't want to assume anything.

“Irrelevant,” Yoongi settled on saying, ignoring the question completely.

“Suuure,” he drew, shaking his head, honey brown hair falling in his eyes. “Anyway, what are you doing tonight, hyung?”

Why was this kid asking so many unavoidable questions? And why the hell did all the answers somehow involve Jimin?

“I'm, uh, going out tonight,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Fried chicken?” It came out more like a question than anything, and Taehyung cocked his head.

“Cool.”

Yoongi breathed out a sigh of relief. The kid was being significantly less nosy than usual today. He looked back down at his sketch and frowned. His customer wanted a piano tattooed on his back, but Yoongi was having a hard time with the proportions. No matter how he drew it, it always looked fucking lopsided. He sighed and tossed the sketchbook onto the coffee table. Tis the life of an artist- never satisfied.

Suddenly the little bell above the door went off and both their head’s turned in unison towards the sound. There Jimin stood in all his glory- tight black jeans hugging his curves, baby blue hoodie hanging off his body, and a beanie on his head that had pushed all his silver hair onto his forehead. There was a backpack hanging off of one of his shoulders, and a black portfolio tucked underneath his arm. But something was off…

Jimin’s normally sparkling eyes were dull and bloodshot, and his usual cheery smile was replaced by a small frown that seemed to slap Yoongi in the face.

“Jiminie!” Taehyung screeched, flying towards his best friend with the grace of an ostrich. “I didn't know you were coming to the studio! Oh- hey- what’s wrong?” Taehyung stopped and held Jimin at arm's length, looking him up and down for any signs of an injury. “Are you okay, ChimChim?”

“Yeah, Taehyungie, I'm fine,” Jimin smiled sweetly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He glanced over to Yoongi, who was still stuck on the couch. “H-hey, hyung.”

“Hey Jimin,” Yoongi greeted, finally finding the courage to get up off the couch and meet them at the door. The look on Jimin’s face told him he was anything but fine, and Yoongi had to bite back his desire to hug him and ask him what the matter was.

“You ready?” Jimin asked, and that must have flicked a switch inside of Taehyung because he started throwing out questions like a broken water fountain.

“Ready for what? Where are you going? Oh my god, is this what hyung meant when he said he was going out tonight? Wait, are you two going out? How come I don't know about this? Is this true, Jiminie? Yoongi hyung? Whats going on? I didn't think-”

“Taehyung!” Yoongi said, effectively cutting the younger off. “Shut up.”

“Oops, sorry hyung.”

Silence filled the room, neither of them wanted to answer the question.

“...So... are you two…” Taehyung trailed off quietly, fearful of setting Yoongi off.

Jimin glanced at Yoongi. “Well… we’re going out to eat.”

Taehyung practically screamed and gathered Jimin in what seemed like a bone-crushing hug. “Jiminie! You’re going on a date with my _boss_?”

“Ew, don't say it like that,” Yoongi groaned.

“Oh my gosh, my best friend is dating Min Yoongi. The emotionless robot. Don't expect and cuddles, Jimin!”

“Hey, I am not a robot!”

 

-

 

They managed to make it out of the studio an hour later after they finished answering all of Taehyung’s questions. Namjoon had let Yoongi use his car today, so Jimin put his backpack and portfolio in the boot of the Hyundai then climbed into the passenger seat next to Yoongi. It almost seemed familiar, sitting in the car with Jimin just like the night of the gala, except this car was running on an economic engine instead of that Porsche.

He couldn't help but notice Jimin’s constant drumming of his fingers against his knee. “You okay, Jimin?”

“Yeah, hyung.”

Not convincing, Yoongi thought. “You don't look so good,” he said honestly, but his voice was soft. “You sure? Have you slept?”

“I- didn't sleep very well last night,” Jimin admitted, avoiding Yoongi’s eyes.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Just… stuff.”

Yoongi snorted.

“I just don't understand how this will work if I'm a criminal,” Jimin said, waving a vague hand between himself and Yoongi, eyes still looking out the window.

Oh, that's what this was about. “Jiminie,” he muttered fondly, reaching for Jimin’s hand over the console. He hesitated at first, but then slid his small clammy hand into Yoongi’s large one. “I've thought about this too, but you have to believe me. I'm… not very good with words, but I really like you and I'm willing to make this work if you are.”

“But me, hyung. I kill people for a living,” Jimin protested, voice quivering.

“And I don't like that,” Yoongi admitted honestly. “But what are you supposed to do about it? How is any of this your fault? It's not. The mafia forced you to do this, Jimin, this isn't really you. You’re different. I know you hate killing people.”

Jimin sniffed and nodded hastily. “I don't, hyung.”

“You know, I would have left if I wasn't okay with this,” he chuckled, squeezing Jimin’s hand.

Jimin seemed to melt with relief, and that's when Yoongi realized that the younger was extremely insecure. Extremely. And he had good reason to be insecure, too, but Yoongi was going to make him feel safe and at home if it's the last thing he did.

“So where are you taking me?” Jimin asked, changing the subject quickly, obviously satisfied with Yoongi’s answer.

“Have you ever heard of Seeds?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Ilysm!
> 
> Recently everything I write has felt s t a l e a f but hopefully I'll get out of this block soon haha
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next week <3


	16. I'll do it for Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi remembers his brother's wise words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I said the official 'update day' was Monday but look who got the chapter out one day early? I really like this chapter, but unfortunately, there isn't any smut... sorry. :)

Jimin’s eyes lit up when they stepped inside Seeds, much to Yoongi’s surprise. It was too run down and old to earn that kind of elated expression, but Jimin grinned anyway as his head turned round and round, trying to take in as much of the restaurant as possible. Yoongi was a bit hesitant to take him to Seeds in the first place because he thought Jimin was used to more… elevated living styles, but then he realized that  _he_ wasn't the same person as Jimin, and they didn't have the same living styles. Yoongi was going to show Jimin a piece of his world, just like the younger had shown him when he attended the gala. And he didn't regret it either, not after seeing Jimin’s face light up like a lightbulb.

“This is cool, hyung,” Jimin said, eyeing all the colorful plates lining the walls. The air was smokey with a thin haze, almost as if they were sitting in a drug den, but it smelled of seasoning and grease, making both their mouths water.

“Let's go get our food,” Yoongi said, leading Jimin to the wooden bar where a menu hung above the counter. They ordered a huge basket of fried chicken and then sat down in a small corner booth near the back under a dim red light. Jimin was shoveling food into his mouth before Yoongi could even properly sit down, and he chuckled fondly. “Hungry, huh?”

Jimin laughed through a mouthful of chicken. “Is it that obvious?”

“Unfortunately so,” Yoongi smirked, “You’re eating habits are ungodly.”

“Meanie,” Jimin giggled.

Yoongi didn't think he could be so attracted to someone, the feeling was foreign to him. It was almost frightening, and he mentally cursed himself for being so soft. Since when did he let anyone get into his heart? He had opened his heart to Taemin, and the guy had crawled inside just to tear it apart, so Yoongi had since decided that relationships just weren't for him. And now here he was, looking at this beautiful criminal, barely regretting anything. He could remember looking at Namjoon and Jin’s relationship with jealousy and an idea stuck in his head that he could never have such a great relationship. Namjoon wasn't a wanted sniper, and Jin wasn't an abused, depressed tattoo artist. They all had some baggage, but Yoongi was sure they would get around it.

He was emotionally clogged, he was suicidal, he was covered from head to toe in this ink that defined who he was and how people saw him, and his closest acquaintance just happened to be depression; coming in the middle of the night and knocking on his door even when he felt okay, just to punch him in the gut and laugh in his face. He was torn and abused, raped what seemed like countless times, and he could still manage a smile, so Yoongi decided it would be okay.

Jimin and Yoongi weren't perfect. They would never be, but Yoongi wanted to become pretty damn close.

A little voice in the back of his head told him that he would have to tell Jimin all of this- the abuse, rape, depression, suicide- but he was scared. He was scared how Jimin would react, although he didn't think Jimin would be anything but accepting, and he was scared because of the conversation he and Jimin had in the car on the way to Seeds. The younger was right, how was this relationship supposed to work?

Jimin was already doubting it before even hearing Yoongi’s story.

 

After the meal- an hour of talking about Jimin’s last year in college, art, and everything in between (excluding their past; neither of them felt comfortable talking about that yet)- they were walking out of Seeds, Jimin yawning loudly and patting his belly.

“That was so good, hyung,” he groaned and tilted his back towards the sky. “I've never had fried chicken like that.”

“Hoseok was the first one to find that place,” Yoongi said, glancing back to the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

“Hobi hyung really knows how to find the diamond in the rough,” Jimin giggled. Yoongi had a feeling he wasn't just talking about the fried chicken.

Yoongi dropped Jimin off at his apartment, and the younger hopped out of the car and grabbed his backpack and portfolio, then leaned down to peek inside the open car window. “Thanks for tonight, hyung,” Jimin said, avoiding Yoongi’s eyes as a blush dusted his cheeks. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” Yoongi agreed. He didn't know if Jimin was expecting a kiss or something; he didn't feel comfortable leaning out the window and landing one on his lips in the middle of the street, but thankfully Jimin kept talking.

“Let's do it again some time?”

“Of course,” he chuckled, reaching out and ruffling Jimin’s hair. “I’ll see you later, okay? Good luck on that painting.”

Jimin groaned, “Don't remind me. I've been putting it off for too long.”

“Take it easy, don't overwork yourself,” Yoongi reminded him, cringing as he heard his voice. Since when has he been so concerned for someone else's health?

“Thanks, hyung. Have a good night,” Jimin chipped, turning and walking down the sidewalk towards the apartment.

 

-

 

“So where were you, hyung?” Namjoon asked, quirking a brow as Yoongi shut the door to their apartment and shrugged off his coat.

“What is it to you?”  
Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Common, hyung. Don't be like that.” He was sitting on the couch with his laptop propped on his knees, probably doing shit for the label company he worked for. The younger was probably overworking himself, if the bags under his eyes were any indicator. Namjoon was always the type to work hard.

“Be like what?” Yoongi said, like he and Namjoon were in third grade.

Namjoon sighed and gave up. “I can't win, can I?”

“Apparently not.” Yoongi went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. “How’s Jin?” he asked, walking back into the living room and falling into one of the ratty chairs Namjoon had picked up from the thrift store three years ago. “I haven't seen him since he went to his dad’s.”

Namjoon worried his lip. “He’s been really busy with work. I haven't seen his much, either. He’s doing alright though.”

“Oh.”

“I want to give him some space,” he shrugged, pulling on one of the threads loosely hanging from his sweater. “He gets kind of distant when he’s wrapped up in work. I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, he needs space. He’s in a stressful position right now, taking over his father’s company and all.”

Yoongi nodded silently. Jerms padded into the room and trotted up to him, wagging his stubby little tail. Yoongi scratched the dog behind his ears and then glanced back at Namjoon. He was wiser, probably wiser than Yoongi. “You’re a good person, Joon,” he said.

“Thanks, hyung.”

“You should go to bed, you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon chuckled. “Always looking out for me.”

“I'm serious.”

“Then what are you going to do tonight?” Namjoon asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “You could sit here and tell me what you were doing tonight.”

“I would rather not,” Yoongi deadpanned. He didn't feel comfortable at all telling Namjoon about this new relationship, and it brought on a pang of guilt from hiding this from one of his closest friends. Thankfully Namjoon didn't know Jimin worked for a mafia, but if he found out… Yoongi didn't want to think about that. Was it selfish of him to want to keep this a secret? Why did he want to keep it hidden anyway, just because Jimin worked for a mafia? Maybe he thought their relationship was some kind of forbidden social construct? In a way it was. If Jimin ever got in deep with the government, wouldn't they look at all of Jimin’s contacts? Yoongi would surely be in the front, right next to Taehyung, who happened to be in the same mafia. The situation was distasteful.

It had been easy telling Tae because the kid was used to the mafia life, and he barely bat an eye. Now Namjoon… well, that would be a different story. Yoongi couldn't imagine the reprimand the younger would throw at him after he found out Yoongi was intimately involving himself with not only an opposer of the law but also Seoul’s most well-known sniper. Namjoon was wise, and that scared him the most.

Wait, Yoongi shouldn't be thinking like this.

“You okay, hyung?” Namjoon asked, yanking Yoongi out of his thoughts. He had been caught in the act of chewing a hole in his lip, brows furrowed, as he thought of Jimin.  
Wait, had he been silent this whole time?

“F-Fine,” he dismissed shakily. “I'm going to take a bath.”

“Okay, hyung.”

Yoongi finally felt better when he sank into the warm water, the bath only ⅓ full because he couldn't afford THAT kind of luxury. Namjoon would probably yell at him, too.  
He needed to stop thinking about the ‘what ifs’ of this relationship with Jimin and just focus on the present. He could worry about the police later. All of the sudden, He remembered something his brother had said.

The memory was so vivid, it’s like Yoongi had been teleported back to high school.

 

\------

 

 

_Yoongi woke in the middle of the night, and when he glanced towards the bed on the other side of the room, he wasn't surprised to find it empty. It had been almost a subconscious habit to wake up at sporadic times in the night, just to check if his little brother had made it home safely. Apparently, tonight, he had not. Yoongi groaned and pulled himself out of bed, yanking on some jeans and a hoodie, then a hat and a dust mask. He quietly walked downstairs, careful not to wake his parents, then crept out the back door. His brother was probably picking a fight or something, maybe half dead in an alley with blood caking his nostrils like Yoongi had found him countless times. He wouldn't be surprised._

_Daegu was a huge city, and his brother could be virtually anywhere, but Yoongi knew where to look. First, he took the bus a few miles north, down where his brother’s best friend lived. Yoongi had memorized the way to this guy’s house, and once he got to the small rotting row house and knocked on the door, he remembered it was the middle of the night and nobody would answer the door. Yoongi sighed and walked to the back of the house where he climbed the ivy ladder and hopped onto the small platform just outside of his bedroom again. What was the kid’s name again? Mino? Heeno?_

_Yoongi knocked on the window and peeked through the glass, hands forming little binoculars around his eyes. He could see a lump on the bed moving around under the covers and then sit up tiredly, head lazily looking back and forth for the sound. Yoongi knocked harder this time._

_He heard the kid scream, and then he was tumbling out of his bed and pushing the window open. “What the fuck?” he asked breathlessly. The kid was tall and thin, and his short black hair stuck up in all directions and his eyes still seemed a little tired. “Aren't you Ami’s brother?”_

_“Yeah, that's kinda why I’m here,” Yoongi shrugged. “Do you know where he is?”_

_“Are you kidding me?” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “Ami could be anywhere, you know that.”_

_“I was hoping for some more guidance, but thanks for that fact, captain obvious.”_

_“Okay, okay, hold your ass,” the kid mumbled sleepily, holding up his palms in defense. “I have a few ideas.”_

_“Sorry for bothering you so late,” Yoongi apologized, finally letting some sympathy sink into his voice for waking the younger up. “If you could just give me some locations or something like that I’ll leave you alone.”_

_“Nah, I’ll come with you,” he said. “I'm up anyway, let me just get some pants on.”_

_Five minutes later the kid had pants on and they were climbing down the ivy ladder again. “Yoongi, right?” he asked once they were walking down the sidewalk._

_“Yeah. Mino?”_

_“Close. Minho. Ami talks about you a lot,” he said._

_Oh yeah, that was the kid’s name. “Oh? I'm sure all he does is complain.”_

_“Well, yeah,” Minho admitted with a little chuckle. “But I think he looks up to you.”_

_“That's news,” Yoongi smirked, not believing a word._

_“He does,” Minho insisted. “He really likes your art.”_

_“What?” The last thing Ami said about Yoongi’s obsession with art was something along the lines of, ‘don't waste your fucking time, Yoongi. Art is for girls. Well, I guess a fagot like you isn't too far away.’_

_“Yeah, he showed me one of your drawings. It was this skull with a gas mask. He asked me to spray paint it, said it would look cool. It did.”_

_Yoongi raised his eyebrows, frowning slightly. “You spray painted it? Like, on a wall?”_

_“Yup, looks dope as fuck,” Minho said with a proud nod. “I’ll have to show you sometime, I think I did your drawing justice.”_

_“So you like art?” Yoongi questioned, still getting over the shock of his own art being permanently (and illegally) painted onto a wall in Daegu._

_“Yup, been drawing since I could hold a pencil,” he laughed loudly, despite the quiet of the night._

_They talked for a long time about art, and eventually, Minho told Yoongi about Ami; all of the things his brother didn't tell him. “You know, he’s a pretty quiet dude,” Minho said, tone thoughtful. “He’s got some major anger issues, but he’ll also just sit in my room for hours and not say a word.”_

_“Surprising,” Yoongi muttered, rolling his eyes. “He can't seem to keep his mouth shut around me.”_

_“I think you just have to understand him,” Minho shrugged. “Here we are, Yoongi-ssi.”_

_Yoongi had been blindly following the boy, but now he was standing in front of a small rotting door in a dark alley in the shadiest part of the city. “What is this place?” he asked, glancing over at Minho. There wasn't even a sign on the door._

_“Ah… you’ll find out,” he responded, voice a little apologetic. “Ami hangs out here a lot.” Minho knocked quietly on the door, and Yoongi was about to tell him to knock harder, but then the door slowly opened and a small person appeared in the doorway. Yoongi couldn't tell if they were a guy or girl; their curly hair was cropped short, but their face was soft and almost elegant. Their eyes were blown, as if aroused, and they seemed to be lost in some kind of alternate universe of ecstasy._

_“Hey Minho,” the person greeted softly, voice like liquid velvet. “Come on in. Who is with you?”_

_“A friend,” Minho explained, following the person into the smokey room after making sure Yoongi was trailing behind. “Is Ami here tonight?”_

_Yoongi looked around the room with wide eyes. The lighting was dim but an ugly green fluorescent, casting moldy shadows against the cracked walls and bathing the room in a creepy vibe. The smoke was so thick it took Yoongi a few tries to get a full breath. The room was filled with chairs and couches, bean bags_ thrown _haphazardly onto the floor. People were lounging around, sitting on big colorful pillows or on a ledge that stuck out from one of the walls, and all of them seemed to be riding some imaginary happy wave._

_That's when Yoongi finally realized this was a drug den. His brother hung out at a drug den._

_“Yeah, he’s here somewhere. Is there anything else I can help you with, Minho?” the gentle voice asked._

_“That’s it, thank you.”_

_“Sure. See you later.” The person left and walked over to a lounge to lie down._

_“A drug den,” Yoongi muttered in disbelief. “A fucking drug den. What does he think he’s doing?”_

_Minho shrugged. “Let's find him, shall we? Before we get a second-hand high.”_

_“Right,” he sighed._

_It took a while to find him, because what seemed like a small dark room turned out to have multiple doors and hallways, and every step they took someone would pop up and offer them some new drug; Minho would politely decline for both of them. Eventually, they found Ami in the back room draped over a pillow, head tilted back, eyes closed in bliss. It took all Yoongi had not to march up and punch him for being so dumb, especially after he noticed a rubber band still pinching his arm._

_“Ami,” Minho called, staying with Yoongi in the doorway as they looked at him with worry. There was only one other woman in the room, and she appeared to be either dead or passed out, so Minho walked towards Ami and called his name again. Yoongi stayed at the door._

_Ami lazily cracked one of his eyes open to glance at his best friend. “Minho,” he greeted, a soft smile playing on his lips as he closed his eyes again._

_“Your brother is here to bring you home,” Mino said, poking Ami with his foot._

_Ami’s eye’s snapped open and he sat up quick as light. “What?”_

_“Common, idiot,” Yoongi said. “We need to go home.”_

_Ami finally looked over at him, eyes lit with rage. “What the fuck are you doing here, Yoongi?” he growled. His face seemed to match his new hair color- a violent shade of red that reminded Yoongi of a stop sign._

_“It's ass o’clock in the morning and mom is going to kill me if you don't come home again,” Yoongi said, trying to school his angry voice._

_“It's not your problem to bring me home,” Ami hissed._

_Yoongi raised his arms helplessly. “I know that, but mother dearest doesn't seem to realize you're not my responsibility. Wanna tell her? Be my guest.”_

_“Fuck off, Yoongi,” he mumbled, dropping back down on the pillow._

_“What are you on?” Yoongi ignored him and walked into the room, eyeing the used syringe that had been carelessly disposed on the floor. “What was in here, Ami?” he demanded, picking up the syringe and waving it in front of the boy’s face._

_“Why do you care?” he snarled._

_“Ami,” Minho finally spoke up, voice hard and demanding like Yoongi’s. “What is it.”_

_“Morphine,” Ami relented, his tone savage. “Now go away, mom.”_

_Yoongi threw the syringe against the concrete wall and it shattered into a million pieces. That seemed to get his brother’s attention because Ami jumped up and grabbed Yoongi by his shirt. Ami had been blessed with height, unlike Yoongi, and even though he was younger than Yoongi, it didn't stop him from blatantly disrespecting the older. “Get out of here, Yoongi,” he snarled._

_Yoongi remained calm, placing a gentle hand on the one fisted in his t-shirt. This seemed to anger the younger even more, and his eyes flashed._

_“Why are you doing this, Ami?” Minho whispered._

_That seemed to penetrate whatever wall Ami had built because he let go of Yoongi and dropped into the closest chair in defeat. Minho crouched next to him and asked again, “Why are you doing this?”_

_“If nobody else makes me feel good, I'm going to do it myself,” Ami growled. “If someone really wants something, they’ll find a way to do it. At least, that’s what mom taught us, right Yoongi?”_

 

\-----

 

_IF YOU REALLY WANT IT, YOU’LL FIND A WAY TO GET IT._

 

The words rang in Yoongi’s head. Back then, they held no meaning. It was just another proverb his mom would throw around, trying to convince her kids that she could be a good parent and give good advice. Now it meant something.

If Yoongi really wanted this relationship to work, it was going to work. He could make it work, all it needed was a little bit of effort. On both of their parts.  
He was glad that memory came back to him all of the sudden, but it seemed to leave a little hole in his heart, even after he came to terms with the fact that he and Jimin’s relationship would work out. He hadn't seen Ami in years, or talked to Minho either. After high school, he never bothered to check up on either of them. Ami probably would have refused his company, anyway, but Yoongi wished he had at least gotten Minho’s phone number to see how the kid was doing after all these years. Hopefully he was still friends with Ami, he seemed like a good person.

There was a sudden knock on the door. “Hyung, you okay? You’ve been in there for like an hour,” Namjoon’s voice called.

It was only then Yoongi realized how cold the water had become, and he pulled the plug then got out of the tub, wrapping his waist in a fluffy grey towel and opening the door of the bathroom. “Sorry for hogging the bathroom,” Yoongi said as he sidestepped Namjoon and padded to his bedroom.

“S’okay,” he said, and then the door to the bathroom shut again.

Yoongi couldn't get Ami and Minho out of his mind, even after he curled up in his bed and tried to go to bed. Maybe he should visit Daegu again, see how everyone is doing. His parents might not want to see him… at least he could try, right? Besides, his mom was the one who always told him that if he really wanted something that there was always a way to get it.

 

-

 

Jisu called right after Yoongi dropped Jimin off at his apartment. He was walking through the lobby and into the elevator when his phone rang and Jimin answered with a, “Hello?”

“Jimin, it's Jisu,” she greeted.

“Hey, whatsup?”

“Junhoe set us up with a conference call,” she said.

“Already?” Jimin asked. Junhoe could really be helpful when he wanted to.

“Yeah, Wednesday,” she commented. “Can you make it to my office at 6 o'clock that night?”

Jimin grimaced. Another after-school meeting, huh? He wasn't so sure he would graduate if he kept this up, but he said, “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you Wednesday night.”

“Alright, goodnight, Jimin.” She hung up.

Jimin sighed, but nothing could ruin his good mood at this point, not after Yoongi had taken him on their first date. Truthfully, he was a bit skeptical when Yoongi had pulled up to Seeds- a shabby restaurant in a shady strip mall- but he ended up loving the food, and loving their date even more.

Now he had to go finish that painting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading <3 I don't quite know how long this story's going to turn out to be, but I have a solid game plan how I want it to end ;)
> 
> (Is anybody else crying in the club over BTS ticket prices?)


	17. Calm before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My theater rehearsals started this week, so I had to update late :(( 
> 
> This is sort of a filler chapter, but it's SUPER fluffy so please enjoy hehehe

Wednesday

 

“You’re sweating,” Jimin commented.

“Thanks, I didn't notice,” Jisu snapped, pressing a small handkerchief to her forehead and taking a deep breath.

“I thought you weren't nervous!” he whined. “How am I supposed to feel now?”

“I don't know, scared out of your mind?”

“You’re supposed to be the older one here!” Jimin said loudly. He leaned over her desk and fumbled with the phone, playing with the stretchy plastic cord with nervous hands. They were waiting for Junhoe to call Jisu’s office and then pass it off to Mr. Kim, who Jimin really wanted to avoid conversation with. He guessed there was really no other option.

“Goddamn, I'm going to have a heart attack if he doesn't call soon,” she murmured under her breath, dabbing at her head again. As if on cue the phone erupted into a series of rings which sent Jisu into a spasm, but she managed to grab the phone and shakily hold it up to her mouth before the call expired. “Y-Yes?”

Jimin waited while Jisu spoke with Junhoe, pulling a tassel on one of the pillows and frowning at the wood of her desk. This is the absolute last thing he wanted to do on a Wednesday evening, and he wasn't in a good mood, either. He hadn't seen Yoongi all week, thanks to his sudden influx of customers and Jimin’s shitty college work.

“Alright, t-thanks, Junhoe-hyungnim. I’ll put it on speakerphone now,” Jisu said after a few minutes of chatter. She pressed a button of the phone and Junhoe’s grainy voice filled the small office.

“Good to go, I'm handing it off,” came his voice from the speaker, then a stagnant silence that left both Jisu and Jimin shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Jimin could just imagine Junhoe handing that daunting phone off to Mr. Kim, with those big lips and broad shoulders and a frown permanently slapped onto his face as if it had been carved there from birth.

“Good evening.” A low voice shot the silence dead, and Jisu dropped her handkerchief and snapped upright in her seat as if Mr. Kim himself was in the room judging her posture. “I have been called by…” there was a short silence and ruffling of papers, “Han Jisu to a conference call on the topic of the capture of Bae Hyeok, is that right?”

“Y-Yes sir,” she stuttered, grabbing a pencil and holding it ready above a pad of paper. “Thank you for meeting with us today.”

“Us?” questioned the voice.

“Um, uh, yes sir, I have Park Jimin here. He is my partner during the capture of Hyeok.”

“Ah, a fine choice. Seoul’s greatest sniper, huh?” Mr. Kim said slowly, sounding a bit too smug and sarcastic to be of any comfort. “Say, are you mute, Park?”

“N-No sir, my voice box is in perfect condition,” Jimin stuttered, cringing at his choice of words. _My voice box is in perfect condition? What the fuck was I thinking? Oh god, this is going worse than I imagined and we haven't even started talking about the issue._ Jisu kicked him under the desk and shot him a warning look. “I mean, sorry sir, I didn't mean-”

“That's quite alright, Park,” Kim snapped, and Jimin closed his mouth as fast as lightning, teeth clacking together. “I like a confident man. It takes the suspicion out of the equation, don't you think?” His tone was definitely laced with a threat, and Jimin swallowed nervously. “I've had men gain a little too much power and go off on their own,” he continued, “But that won't be the case with you, right Park?”

Jimin wanted to stab himself in the throat with Jisu’s pen so he didn't have to answer because _that was his exact fucking plan_. “Of course not, sir,” Jimin said, trying to keep whatever confidence he had in his voice to stay there.

“Good. I didn't think I would need to worry about you too much, Park. You've been _very_ loyal,” he said slowly, and yeah, that was definitely a threat it Jimin ever heard one. “So what seems to be the problem with Hyeok?”

Jimin sighed in relief. Finally on topic.

“R-Right,” Jisu sputtered, shaking her head and shuffling through some notes. “You ordered the capture or killing of Bae Hyeok, and we were only given records of his last flight ticket, and it turns out it was just to throw us off; he never went to Japan.”

“Right,” Mr. Kim confirmed. “Is there a problem?”

“Well,” Jisu started, probably wondering how to avoid that question or answer it with the most respect. “Uh, I'm having a hard time finding his location and personal information.”

There was a long hesitant silence, and then Mr. Kim. “Okay. Continue. I don't have all day.”

“Right, sorry. I found that his mafia profile was moved to a locked file about two years ago, and that contained all of his information. It would be of great assistance if you could help us retrieve the information.”

“Huh,” his voice rang around the room. His tone sounded surprised, as if he didn't even know about the locked profile. “That is quite strange. But I'm sorry, I can't help.”

What the hell. Jimin flailed in his seat, punching the air angrily and mouthing choice words silently at the phone’s receiver.

“S-Sir? What do you mean?” Jisu sounded stunned. This was their last resort.

“I don't have the passwords to that file,” he said simply.

“What?” Jimin asked in disbelief, not even trying to school his tone now. “Then who does?” Another kick under the desk from Jisu.

“My sons,” he said, “Are two of a few people that can access that private database. To have the codes in my position is very risky and hazardous, therefore only my sons and people of their wise choice have the passwords.”

It made sense. Mr. Kim was too important to have possession of that kind of knowledge. God knows who would torture the answers out of him. Jimin guessed, this way, Kim’s sons would be the ones getting tortured. A little selfish of Mr. Kim, if you ask him.

“I will contact them and ask them about the profile and Junhoe will contact you within a week. I have a pressing meeting to attend and must go. Goodbye.”

 

Static; Mr. Kim had hung up.

 

-

 

Jimin angrily punched in Yoongi’s phone number and held the phone to his ear, waiting as the first few rings sounded. He glared daggers at the bartender when the man asked if he wanted a drink- it was on the house thanks to his gold-plated membership card- but he didn't want a fucking beer, he wanted Yoongi to pick up the damn phone and work his calming magic on Jimin, who was caught in the middle of both an outrage and a panic attack. How could Mr. Kim just drop them without anything else? Did he really think they could complete this mission with the minuscule amount of information that was allowed to them? No, no, it wasn't going to fucking work and then Jimin would be punished for not completing his bosses orders-

“Hello?” Yoongi’s deep voice immediately sent a pleasant shiver down from his spine to his toes, and he felt himself relax against the bar counter, cheek pressed down on the cold surface. “Jimin?”

“Hey, hyung,” he greeted, a new wave of sleepiness randomly crashing into him. He guessed Yoongi’s voice just had that effect on him. Calming and drowsy like- fuck, Jimin didn't know- sleepy sex? Oh great, he was equating Yoongi’s voice to sleepy sex. He shook his head and sat back up on the barstool, only a slight blush dusting his cheeks.

“How’s it going, Jimin? Sorry I haven't been able to meet up with you much, work is really kicking my butt,” Yoongi apologizes, sounding so sincere Jimin wanted to coo.

“Don't apologize, hyung, we’ve both been busy. Can I come to the studio?”

“What, right now?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I mean, sure, you know you’re always welcome. You may be waiting like an hour, though, I'm just now taking a break with one of my customers.”

“It's okay,” Jimin said quickly. “I’ll swing by soon.”

“Sounds good.” Jimin could practically hear the smile in Yoongi’s voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it's just been a...rough day,” he settled on saying.

“Okay, we’ll talk when you get here, I have to go finish up the tattoo now.”

“See you soon, hyung.” He hung up and pocketed his phone, then leaned back against the bar counter and glanced at all the other people currently ordering drinks. One man ordered a round of shots and it was only a Wednesday evening, and another woman asked if they did free refills, which Jimin thought was a kind of stupid question but she appeared to be pretty drunk already. Out of all the people in the bar, all the people in the whole fucking world, Jimin got Yoongi and he couldn't be happier. Yoongi was just too kind, a little closed off and secretive, but he was talented and unique and beautiful.

Jimin sighed and then pushed off the counter and walked towards the entrance. Twenty minutes later he was pulling the door of the studio open. The little bell above the door rang like usual, and Jimin couldn't help but giggle at the thought of the door Number’s thugs had broken. Now look where they were.

“Hey Jimin,” Yoongi called when he walked inside. The older was leaned over a middle-aged woman’s leg, tattoo gun in hand, but he was staring at Jimin with stars in his eyes like it was the first time seeing him.

Jimin blushed under his strong gaze but raised a hand to wave at him. “Hi hyung. How’s it going?” He politely nodded at the customer Yoongi was currently working on.

“Good, good. I’ll be done in about a half an hour,” Yoongi mumbled, pressing the ink back onto the person’s skin. “Tae is coming back with drinks, I told him to get you a stirry thing.”

Jimin grinned. “You remembered!”

“Of course I did,” the older murmured, keeping his blushing face down. “Now go sit down and stop being a pest,” he joked fondly.

Suddenly the door flew open with a loud bang and Taehyung strut though, holding a cardboard tray of three drinks and a brown paper. “Jiminie!” he cheered, running up to his best friend and wrapping him in a big bear hug but being careful of the drinks. “I haven't seen you in a while! How’s school? Oh- Yoongi told me to get you a hot chocolate!” He was a tornado of energy, placing the food on the coffee table and setting everything out like some sort of waiter. He checked the names on the cups and handed the tallest one to Jimin, then threw the paper bag at his friend. “Hyung said I should buy you one of those stirry things. Isn't he whipped?”

“Hey!” came Yoongi’s scandalized refute from across the room. “I'm your boss, you ingrate!”

Jimin laughed and stuck his tongue out at his best friend, taking the drink and cake pop and settling down on the couch. “Thanks, hyung!” he called as he took a sip.

“No problem,” Taehyung said.

“I was talking to Yoongi hyung,” Jimin smiled innocently and he could hear Yoongi chuckle quietly.

Taehyung gave an offended gasp. “ChimChim! Have I been replaced?”

“No!” Jimin was quick to say, grabbing Tae’s arm and shaking. “I love you, Taehyungie!”

He smiled and cocked a head towards Yoongi. “Hear that Yoongi?” he called, “Jimin  _loves_ me!”

“Hey! It’s hyung to you, brat!”

Jimin and Taehyung burst out laughing.

A half an hour later, just like Yoongi said, the customer was walking out of the parlor with a smile- probably the effect of the elder’s amazing tattooing skills- and Yoongi walked over to the couch where Jimin and Taehyung were still playing around.

“Taehyung, you mind watching over the shop for a while?” Yoongi asked the boy, giving Jimin a look. “Walk with me?”

“Okay,” Jimin nodded, not sure what Yoongi was planning. He stood up and walked out of the parlor with the older by his side.

“Thanks, Tae,” Yoongi called just before he shut the door. The air was cool, and their breaths came out in smokey puffs as they walked down the street silently.

Soon Jimin couldn't stand it anymore and reached out to grab the older’s hand, and Yoongi intertwined their fingers almost immediately, glancing over at him and showing a gummy smile. “Are you okay, hyung?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi frowned. “Yeah, of course. I was going to ask  _you_ that, actually. You sounded stressed out on the phone.”

“Yeah,” Jimin chuckled weakly and scratched his head with the hand that wasn't being tightly held by Yoongi, a comfort that Jimin didn't know he needed. “I'm just feeling… stressed. Work is running me dry,” he admitted and gripped Yoongi’s hand even tighter. “I just want it to end, hyung, and I feel like it never will.” They stopped at an intersection and waited for the crosswalk light to turn green. “This new case is confusing the fuck out of me.”

Yoongi ran his thumb along Jimin knuckles, a comforting mantra that had Jimin sighing tiredly and falling even harder for the older. These little things that Yoongi did… he didn't realize what kind of effect they had on him. “You need a break, Jimin,” he said seriously. “Can I do anything for you?”

Jimin blushed. Yoongi really cared about him a lot, he thought. They crossed the intersection, weaving between people, then Jimin muttered, “I don't wanna be a hassle.”

“You’re not a hassle, don't say that,” Yoongi shot, voice firm. He gave Jimin’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I want to do things for you.”

Jimin blushed and buried his face in his free hand. “Do you want to come over and paint tonight?”

Yoongi grinned. “Sure.”

 

-

 

Jimin almost jumped when he heard the knock at the door. He put down his paintbrush and practically ran to the door, peeking through the peephole to make sure it was Yoongi. He opened the door and greeted him with a “Hyung!”

“Hey, Jimin,” he smiled, then followed Jimin inside. They had agreed to meet up later that night after Yoongi got off from work. That gave the younger time to clean his apartment and put on some painting clothes. He didn't wear those spandex he usually wore when he painted just because he didn't want to frustrate Yoongi or himself, especially now that the ‘take it slow’ rule was in effect. It was still hard to restrain himself when Yoongi was right there in front of him, looking so perfect. Even without tight shorts on

“What are you painting?” Yoongi asked.

“Here, let me show you!” Jimin led him to where the tiger painting was sitting on the easel. It wasn't close to being finished, Jimin had been putting it off for quite a few days now. He had just started on the green jungle background, and the tiger was missing color on each of its legs.

“That's really good,” Yoongi praised, and Jimin felt his face heat up. He always felt this way when Yoongi complimented him, and it wasn't hard to understand why.

“Have you painted anything in a while?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi chuckled as he shrugged off his coat and dropped it onto one of the red armchairs. “It's been some time, actually. I usually just stick to my sketchbook, but I used to be really into painting.”

“Wanna get started? I can lend you some painting clothes.”

After Yoongi had put the big t-shirt over his clothes they started painting, the older finishing the tiger’s orange and black fur and Jimin working on the green jungle. It was calm, nice. Jimin didn't need any music to paint today, the steady breathing of Yoongi was enough to keep him focused. They didn't talk- both seemed to be more of listeners that thinkers when they worked- and after an hour Jimin had to give his eyes a break and asked Yoongi if he wanted a drink. They both set their paintbrushes down and settled at the kitchen counter, nursing cans of soda.

“You’re a good painter,” Jimin said, glancing back towards the canvas. Yoongi had finished the animal’s fur, seamlessly mixing his style with Jimin’s.

“Thanks,” Yoongi smiled and took a sip. “I’ve enjoyed this. How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Better,” he admitted. “I was feeling pretty stressed. It's always hard for me to get over it. I used to drink away my problems but I try not to do that anymore.”

“That's good,” Yoongi murmured. “I used to bury my worries away, too.”

“Really?” Jimin was surprised; Yoongi seemed like the kind of person that wouldn't try to distract himself from a problem or drown his sorrows in alcohol.

“Yeah.” Yoongi sighed and looked away, obviously uncomfortable. “Except with sex. But, you know... I stopped last year. Haven't touched a guy since, well, you, I guess.” He spoke slowly, as if he didn't want to say the wrong thing.

“Really?” Jimin couldn't help but feel sort of special. Yoongi hadn't been with anyone in a year? He was the one that Yoongi chose out of all the people in the world? Fuck, he was falling even harder now.

“Y-Yeah,” Yoongi chuckled- and was that a bit of nervousness barbing his voice? “I needed a… break, I guess.”

Jimin hummed in acknowledgment. He was glad Yoongi was sharing something so personal with him. Usually, the older remained rather closed off when Jimin mentioned his past, but he was no one to assume anything about Yoongi or what he had been through, so Jimin was going to keep his mouth shut until he was ready to open up. He was going to wait for him.

 

-

 

Hoseok came into the studio with takeout Thursday night, and Yoongi decided he was going to tell his best friend about this new relationship he had gotten himself wrapped up in. Once they were all seated around the coffee table and Yoongi had flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’, he gave an awkward cough which meant to gather the attention of the two guys.

“Guys?”

“Yeah?” Hoseok asked as he shoveled noodled into his mouth, Taehyung giggling once he saw Hobi’s cheeks chubbed with food.

“I have to tell you something,” Yoongi said, ending the sentence with a nod just to reassure himself.

Hoseok cocked a brow and Taehyung asked, “What is it, hyung?”

“Well, this is mostly for Hobi, but uh…” he frowned and worried his lip. How was he supposed to say this?

Hoseok poked him on the nose and giggled. “You’re so cute when you’re thinking. What’s wrong, Yoons?”

Yoongi shot him a death glare and smacked his hand away. “Jimin and I… well, we went out last Friday.”

Silence took over the parlor, and Hoseok cocked his head, then his eyes suddenly became wide as he realized what Yoongi meant. Before he could scream out anything, Taehyung boasted, “I already knew! Hobi hyung is a loser!”

“Huh?” Hoseok gaped, mouth dropping open and eyes wide as saucers. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Yoongi? What are you talking about?”

“Ha-Ha!” Taehyung teased, punching Hoseok in the arm and dancing around the table. “I knew before you! I knew before you!”

Hoseok wasn't looking at Taehyung, though, his eyes were glued to Yoongi’s blushing face. “What do you mean you _went out_? Like, are you two official now or something?”

“I dunno, we’re, uh, just trying it out, I guess.”

“And you didn't bother to _fucking tell me_?” he screeched, finally seeming to snap out of his stupor as he grabbed Yoongi by the shoulders and shook him around like a ragdoll. “Wait till Joon finds out about this- _Oh boy_.”

“No, Hobi, don't tell Namjoon,” Yoongi begged. “If you tell him he’ll try to give me dating advice or some shit!”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Hoseok sounded genuinely hurt that Yoongi hadn't told him right away, and he felt a little pang in his chest.

“I'm sorry,” Yoongi apologized quickly. “I was just… worried.” He lowered his voice so Tae- who was still running his victory lap- couldn't hear. “You know I haven't don't this kind of thing in a while. I was scared it was going to end up like my last relationship.”

“But it's not,” Hoseok finalized for him. “I 100% approve of Jiminie.” He flashed Yoongi the biggest heart-shaped grin and then said, “Oh, comme're Yoongi,” and wrapped him in a big hug. “I'm proud of you, man.”

“You won't tell Namjoon?”

“Not unless you want me to, I guess,” Hoseok sighed dramatically in mock exasperation, throwing his head back.

 

-

 

“Has Junhoe gotten back to you yet?” Jimin asked. He was sitting next to Jisu at the bar above the mafia, nursing a martini.

“Not yet,” Jisu groaned. “But it’s only Thursday, we just called him the other day.”

“True, but this is kind of important,” he huffed. “I mean, Hyeok went against direct orders. Something like that gets you killed at the very least, probably tortured.”

“You’re right,” Jisu sighed. “It is serious. At least, that’s how Mr. Kim makes it sound.”

“Life or death is pretty serious, and that’s where that Hyeok fellow is headed right now,” he murmured.

She hummed in agreement and tucked a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. “You know, Junhoe said Hyeok and Mr. Kim’s kids were childhood friends. I wish I could contact one of his sons right about now.”

“I know, right? I wonder when they’re gonna show up in the mafia,” Jimin thought aloud.

There was a long stretch of silence before Jisu remarked, “Do you think the kids and Hyeok still keep in contact?” Jimin shrugged. “... What if they know where he is?”

“I doubt that,” Jimin said. “They would have told their father by now, don't you think?”

Jisu frowned. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. False hope, I guess.” Suddenly her phone rang and she dug around in her purse to answer it. “Hello?”

There was silence where the person on the other line was probably talking, and Jimin bit his lip when Jisu visibly paled.

“Yeah, okay. Uh-huh,” she nodded, hopping off the bar stool and motioning for Jimin to follow her back to the hallway where they walked down the bar stairs and went to her office. She shut the door quickly then searched around her desk for pen and paper. “Hold on, hyungnim, gimme a moment.” She clicked the pen on. “Okay, go ahead.”

Five minutes later Jisu hung up the phone with a loud sigh, and Jimin immediately barged her with questions. “What was that? What happened?”

“Junhoe gave me the name of one of Mr. Kim’s sons,” she said.

Silence.

“...That's it?”

“Yeah,” Jisu nodded. “And his phone number.”

Jimin sighed in relief, letting go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding the whole time. “This is perfect.”

“I know,” she grinned.

“God, this’ll finally go somewhere. Are you gonna call him right now?”

“No, it’s too late. I’ll try tomorrow afternoon. I'm hoping he’ll answer some questions.”

“Let's hope he does. Can you believe this, Jisu? Why did Mr. Kim just GIVE us his son’s name? I thought he, like, hid his kids away.”

“Me too,” she agreed, “I haven't heard of his kids since I started working here. That’s weird of Mr. Kim…”

“What was his name?”

“Kim Jaeo.”

“Jaeo,” Jimin mumbled.

“He’ the youngest son.”

“Well, I can't wait to milk him for information,” he chuckled. “Then we can finally be done with this shit.”

“That's the truth.”

 

He left Jisu’s office and started on his way home. He had finished his art history paper at the library after school, so he was relatively free for the rest of the night, so decided to go home and just watch TV. Maybe he would take a hot bath or have a drink, or maybe he would sit on the balcony and just look at the city. He wondered what Yoongi was doing right now. He assumed the older was in the midst of tattooing someone, laser-like eyes focused on inking their skin and cute pink tongue peeking out of his mouth.

Man, he was so _whipped_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So BTS tickets sold in two minutes (not a joke) so I'm just sitting in the corner crying silently 
> 
> Congrats to anyone who actually got them!! I'm still so excited for the new album <3
> 
>  
> 
> (Oh yeah, so now Tae is wearing a lip ring a seducing himself with his own hand I'm s h o o k)
> 
> NO UPDATE FOR 2 WEEKS BECAUSE OF REHEARSALS :((


	18. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would be updating in two weeks...but it's been THREE! So sorry! My computer crashed and I lost the whole document D: It was a stroke trying to get it back but I did!!
> 
> Hehe, anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter <3 <3

Saturday

Jimin woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. He groaned and threw off the covers, then checked the clock. It was only seven in the morning. The only way he would be okay with this early morning wake up is if he found Yoongi’s or Tae’s caller ID on his phone screen, but when he stumbled to grab the device from his dresser he saw it was Jisu calling, instead.

Letting out an angry sigh, Jimin answer the phone with a sharp, “Hello?”

“Jimin? You okay?” She sounded very much awake, and that only made Jimin more annoyed.

“Fine. What do you want?”

“Geez,” she grumbled, probably turned off by Jimin’s attitude, but he didn't have any energy to feel bad. Maybe after he had his first cup of coffee the guilt would hit, but right now he just smashed the receiver to his cheek and flopped back onto his king sized bed with a tired huff. “Good morning to you, too.”

“It's too early, Jisu. This better be good.”

“Actually, it is,” she said indignantly. “I called Jaeo and he wants to meet with you in person.”

Jimin almost choked. “Come again?”

“Yeah, he really wants to help us with this. He seemed pretty intent on finding Hyeok.”

“Why can't you just meet with him?” Jimin asked, finally awake.

“He… He says he doesn't trust me.”

“Huh?”

“I dunno, Jimin, that's just what he told me,” Jisu muttered. “I think he’s heard of you before, so he must be more comfortable around you or something. I agreed; didn't want to piss him off. I assume Mr. Kim’s anger issues run in the family.”

“So you just said he could meet with me?”

“There wasn't much I could do. You’re going to his house on Thursday.”

Jimin let a weird noise bubble in the back of his through, almost a groan, almost a cry. “I'm going to Mr. Kim’s son’s _house_? What the hell, Jisu! You can't just volunteer me like that!” he whined, rolling in his bed and thrashing his legs childishly. “I'm too young to die!”

“You aren't going to die,” she deadpanned, “And I didn't have a choice. Do you want to drag this case out longer than we already have? And risk getting on Mr. Kim’s bad side?”

“...No.”

“That's what I thought. I’ll send you his address. You better be ready and dressed up on Thursday.”

“Noona,” he groaned again, letting a pout seep into his voice. “I can't do this alone! What if he kills me?”

“He’s not going to kill, he’s trying to _help us_. Are you sleeptalking, Jimin?”

“Maybe I am,” he grumbled and tossed back around, rolling himself into a blanket burrito. “You did wake me up too early, after all.”

She sighed, long and exasperated, from the other end. “Alright, I’ll let you rest. Just thought you would want to know right away.”

He muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” then Jisu hung up the phone with a soft yet annoyed chuckle.

Jimin unrolled himself from the blanket burrito and lazily sat up in bed. The sun was peeking over the city and filtering through his windows, bathing his room in a warm pink glow. He couldn't go back to sleep, now, he thought, and dragged himself out of bed. He shuffled to the kitchen and started the coffee machine, then waited against the counter, a far out look in his eye. Kim Jaeo, huh? _I wonder what he's like?_  Hopefully not as controlling and sadistic as his father. Although, Jimin wouldn't put it past Mr. Kim to pass all his bad traits down to his helpless sons.

The coffee spigot finally sputtered to life. Jimin glanced out the window to the city, a sight he never really got tired of, but didn't exactly appreciate it’s full beauty, either. It was nice, it really was, but it didn't feel like home. Home was his mother’s cooking and his little brother’s soft giggled when he crashed his toy car into the leg of the couch. God, his mother. He should really go visit her sometime. His brother was still in school…  _I wonder how he is doing?_ He was still sending money over to her for rent and his little brother’s small schooling fees, but hadn't seen her in almost half a year.

The coffee machine beeped. Jimin grabbed the warm mug and cradled it between his clammy hands, taking a tentative sip. He liked it black, no extra fluff. When he was younger and money was hard to come by, he stuck to the basics, and black coffee was just one of those things that always stayed with him even after he struck the proverbial gold mine of the mafia industry. Black coffee reminded him of his mother, and that's the way he liked it.

When Jimin finished his coffee and took a bite of the rice cake that had been lying in the pantry for a few months, he finally flopped down on the couch and flicked the TV on. A stale drama was on, even staler than the rice cake he just ate, so he aimlessly flipped through the channels in hopes of finding something mildly interesting. Apparently, nothing good came on Saturday mornings, so he turned the television off and sighed. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and dialed Yoongi’s phone number.

It rang until the call was sent to voicemail, and Jimin realized it was still early and Yoongi was probably still asleep. When the beep sounded he said, “Hey hyung, it’s Jimin. Uh, sorry for calling so early. I was wondering if you wanted to come over. I dunno your work schedule, but I’m free all day.” He didn't know how to end the recording, so he just said, “Get back to me soon? Talk to you later, hyung.”

 

-

 

Yoongi woke up and immediately reached for his side drawer. It was one of _those_ days, one of the days he where he couldn't control how the fuck he felt. The Depression had come out of nowhere and hit him like a train, knocking the wind right out of him. He didn't even have a _reason_ ; his life was moving as smooth as ever, work wasn't stressing him too much, and he had a beautiful silver-haired boy to go on disgustingly domestic dates with.

He should be happy; He should be feeling like a cloud, and yet all he wanted to go was light his damn cigarette and sit in bed all day.

Taemin, that's what brought this all on. Right, he had a dream about his ex last night. Yoongi faintly remembered waking up in a cold sweat and then hazily shuffling to the kitchen and getting a glass of water.

He groaned, then lit his cigarette and begrudgingly crawled out of bed to open a window- Namjoon always had a fucking fit when he found out he had been smoking in the apartment again- and breathed out the smoke into the cold air.

He couldn't control this- it wasn't his fault. Yoongi tried to tell himself none of this was caused by him, it was only his shitty mental health taking control once again.

He had been trying to lower the dosage of his antidepressants, but it looked like he was going to have to go back on them again. _Stupid brain_ , he thought, and blew another short puff of smoke out the window. _Stupid Taemin. This is why I feel fucking worthless._

After his cigarette had smoldered into a stump Yoongi closed his window and crawled back in bed. He was going to have to get up in an hour for work, but right now he just wanted to… sit. Do absolutely nothing as he stared at his bedroom wall.

An hour later, just as he promised himself, Yoongi dragged himself out of bed- he skipped the shower, he didn't have enough energy today- and grabbed his keys and wallet. He wasn't very hungry so he decided to forego breakfast today, too, a move he would probably regret by the time he got to work.

It was only until he actually got to the parlor that he checked his phone, seeing a missed call from Jimin from earlier that morning. He hit play.

_“Hey hyung, it’s Jimin. Uh, sorry for calling so early. I was wondering if you wanted to come over. I dunno your work schedule, but I’m free all day. Get back to me soon? Talk to you later, hyung.”_

Yoongi sighed and called the younger back.

“Yoongi hyung?” he answered, voice chipper, the exact opposite of how Yoongi felt.

“Hey Jimin.” He tried to keep his voice light, but he was sure his sour mood was affecting even his tone, too. “How are you?”

“Good! What are you doing today?”

“I have to work until five. What about you?”

“I'm off today. I didn't know how late you worked. Do you wanna meet up after you get out?”

Yoongi mulled over this. He didn't want to seem petty for declining, but in reality, no matter how much he liked Jimin, the depression just didn't want him to go anywhere.

Jimin seemed to sense the hesitation because he quickly said, “You don't have to, hyung,” but his voice was a little hurt.

Yoongi immediately felt bad and scrambled to collect himself. “I-It's not that I don't want to spend time with you!” He paused, chewing on his lip. “I'm just… not feeling very well today, you know?”

“Oh,” Jimin gasped. “That's okay, hyung, I understand.”

“Thanks, Jiminie.” Oops, the pet name slipped out a little too easy.

“Y-Yeah, don't mention it,” he coughed. Yoongi could practically feel Jimin’s blush through the phone.

“Maybe later, though? I get off work early on Thursday.”

“Sure! Oh, wait-” Jimin’s voice deflated, “I have to be somewhere on Thursday. It's for the new mission XTC assigned me.”

Yoongi frowned. “That's okay. We can figure out another time.”

“Yeah.” Jimin’s voice was sad, and it kind of reminded Yoongi of a whiny puppy. “I’ll have to wait until after Thursday though, I have a feeling my schedule's going to be really wacky the next few weeks.”

“Really? Are you going to… uh, be safe?”

“Safe?” Jimin hesitated. “For now I am. I'm sure I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know when I go into the heat of things, alright?”

Yoongi clamped his eyes shut. All he wanted was for Jimin to be safe. “Keep me updated, alright? I don't wanna get a call in two weeks telling me you’re in the hospital.”

“Of course, hyung. Sorry for worrying you so much.” His tone was a little too apologetic.

“It's not your fault.”

“I know.”

“Good. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

“I know.” Jimin’s tone was light again, almost playful, and Yoongi wanted to thank the gods.

“I need to get to work,” Yoongi finally sighed.

“Okay, I’ll let you go. Say hi to Tae for me?”

“Of course.”

 

-

 

Namjoon and Jeremy were curled up on the couch together as Yoongi stepped through the door, coming home from work that night. It was only 5:30 in the evening but the younger man was completely conked out, and Jeremy’s eyes were slowly drooping; he didn't even excitedly bounce up to greet Yoongi, either.

Yoongi couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, a grown ass man sleeping like a baby with his scary dog. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over the sleeping duo. Yoongi knew Namjoon had been having a tough time at work. Working for a producing company couldn't be easy, he thought. Between work and worrying over Jin- the oldest had been eerily busy lately, apparently stressed due to his work- Yoongi knew Namjoon was near running on empty. He was proud of him, though.

Yoongi forced himself to eat, then took his pills, then took the shower he neglected this morning. While he was changing out of his work clothes Hoseok called.

“Hello?” Yoongi answered, his white t-shirt hanging around his neck like a scarf as he fumbled to reach the phone.

“Hey, Yoongo!”

“Don't call me that.”

“Nevermind you, Yoongo! What are you doing tonight?” the chipper boy asked.

“Sleeping.”

“It's a Saturday, though. Wanna come down to Hagye with me tonight? Taeyang said drinks are on the house.”

“Drinks are  _always_ on the house for us, Hoseok,” Yoongi pointed out.

“True, but don't you want a free drink?”

“Not right now,” he sighed heavily, wrenching the t-shirt over his head and awkwardly shimmying out of his tight jeans with the help of his one free hand.

“Why not?”

“I'm not feeling well.” He managed to get one leg out, now on to the next. “I tried to get off my pills, or, you know, at least lower the dosage a little, but I’m back to square one.”

“Oh. Sorry, hyung, I didn't know.”

Yoongi swore Hoseok was one of the softest and kind-hearted people he knew. The poor kid’s voice was truly apologetic, almost like HE had brought all this depression upon his hyung. “That's okay, I just wanna stay in for the night.”

“...Can I come over?”

Yoongi hesitated.

“I promise I won't be loud! You need someone there right now, I wanna be with you.”

Yoongi caved. “Alright, you can come.” After he hung up the phone he felt a little bad on baling on Jimin when he had just invited Hoseok over, but he decided he would take Jimin on an extra-apologetic date the next time.

_That's fucking domestic._

An hour later Hoseok rang the doorbell and Yoongi rushed to get the door, knowing that if he didn't answer right away the guy would just keep ringing. As he opened the door Yoongi hissed, “Shut up, don't wake Namjoon up.”

Hoseok clamped a hand over his mouth and tip-toed inside, a little too dramatically. The younger dropped all his stuff in Yoongi’s room and plopped himself down on the bed with a loud sigh. “How you doing, hyung?”

Yoongi shrugged and made himself comfortable on the carpet floor, pulling a thread from a loose knot.

“How are you and Jimin doing?”

“Good, actually,” he admitted. It was almost a little weird how smoothly things were going between them, but he sure wasn't complaining. “He wanted to meet up tonight but I told him I wasn't feeling well. He pretty much dropped it after that.”

“...Have you told him yet?” Hoseok asked, completely serious.

“Which part?” he chuckled bitterly. “The one where I'm an emotional wreck with depression or the one where I was raped every day for a few months?”

Hoseok cringed at his best friend’s choice of words. “Don't talk like that, hyung. And...both, I guess.”

“Nah, I haven't told him. Jimin’s going through some stuff, too, I don't wanna pile on, you know?”

Hoseok shrugged. “I think you guys both need to be honest with each other. But whenever you’re ready, of course.”

“Honestly? I don't think I’ll be ‘ready’ for a while.”

“That's okay,” he assured with a small, heart-shaped smile. “You don't have to be ready right away.”

Yoongi thrust a hand through his hair. “I just don't wanna fuck this up, man.”

“You won't, I know it.”

“Fingers crossed.”

 

Thursday

 

Okay, he could admit it, he was a  _little_ nervous. Well, a lot nervous.

Jimin stood in front of his mirror, holding a black suit jacket up to his body and then grabbing a tie with his free hand and observing how it looked with the jacket… Should he go more “Rich Bitch” or “This Mafia Needs Me”? Both seemed a little egotistical.

_Fuck it._

He threw the jacket and tie onto his bed where the previous clothes he had been debating over were piled up. He finally decided to wear a simple white dress shirt and his casual black suit jacket, slipping on a skinny black tie and pulling it taught around his throat. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, tugged roughly on his cuffs, and then finally put his coat and dress shoes on.

The receptionist had called up five minutes ago to let him know that a car was waiting for him outside, so Jimin hurried to the lobby and gave a polite bow to the doorman before bustling into the cold and searching for the supposedly waiting car. He almost groaned when his eyes landed on a limousine parked just down the street, little powder-blue flags waving from the hood of the car. That soft blue color- a sign of power in XTC. Some social construct probably created back when the mafia was first starting out.

“Mr. Park?”

Jimin turned to find the voice, a man bowing ninety degrees, face directly toward the sidewalk below. “That's me.”

“Please follow me to the car, sir.”

The man led him to the limo and held the door open as Jimin hesitantly climbed inside, door softly shutting behind him, sealing his fate. He glanced around the polished interior, eyeing the small beverage fridge next to him and the glassware carefully placed on the tiny counter space. He had been in a limo before, but somehow this one felt… different. Usually, when he found himself in one of these expensive cars he wasn't feeling so nervous, right now he was feeling so anxious he had to force himself not to ask the driver for a paper bag.

“Would you like the partition up, sir?”

Jimin looked at the driver through the mirror and shook his head, swallowing hard. “No, thank you. I actually wanted to ask you… how far away is the location?”

“About fifty minutes, sir.”

Jimin nodded absently. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything else.” Jimin heard the key being twisted in the ignition and the car pulled away from its parking space.

“Um, actually,” Jimin started, and the man met his eyes in the mirror again, raising a brow, “Do you work for Mr. Kim? I mean, his son, Kim Jaeo,” he corrected himself.

“I work as a butler for Mr. Jaeo, sir.”

“Oh. Does the board of XTC knows this interaction is happening?”

The man frowned, and Jimin heard the blinker flick on as he changed lanes. “I assume so, sir, but I was contacted by Mr. Jaeo to pick you up and take you to his home. I don't know about the board.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Would you like me to ask?”

“No, that's okay, thank you.”

He remained silent for the rest of the ride, but his mind ate him apart. Should he be carrying a gun? Wait, no, he’s not going on a mission, he’s just going to talk to Jaeo about his relations with that Hyeok guy. Easy. There’s no way he can mess this up. Right?

The fifty minutes was up way too quickly in Jimin’s opinion, and soon the limo was pulling into a private driveway, the driver gently steering through the gravel path and past a small row of trees. He turned a corner and Jimin finally got to catch a glimpse of the house of one of Mr. Kim’s unheard-of sons. It wasn't as fancy as Jimin had anticipated- no weird fountain at the front or ivy crawling up the side of a huge stone mansion- but it was more modern than anything. It was tucked away on a small mountain, overlooking Seoul but also quite secluded from the city. Jimin could almost see through the house, the walls made up of glass and what looked like blocks of wood and slabs of smooth white stone. The lights that shone from inside were warm and yellow, and mixing with the deep oak of the exterior Jimin almost found himself thinking that it looked like of… _cozy_.

The car pulled up to the entrance, and Jimin waited while the man got out and held the door open for him. He was led down a smooth stone path and the driver was just about to knock on the oak door when a smiling face appeared in one of the windows next to him, starting Jimin, the sniper letting out an undignified squeak.

The door was flung open seconds later, revealing a tall boy with an insatiable grin. “Sado!”

The butler bowed deeply. “Good evening, sir.”

The man turned to Jimin next, those sparkling eyes searing a hole in his face. “You must be Mr. Park!”

“U-Uh, yes sir, please just call me Jimin.”

His grin turned impossibly wider.

_Is this Kim Jaeo? Mr. Kim's son? Maybe I have the wrong house..._

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Park, I'm Kim Jaeo.” He stuck out his hand, and Jimin hesitantly reached out to shake it. His hands were soft. “What am I thinking!” Jaeo suddenly burst out, dragging Jimin inside with one hand and his butler with the other. “Come inside! It must be cold out there!”

He led Jimin to the living room, letting go of the bored-looking butler so he could make tea, and then promptly sat down on the couch, motioning Jimin into the seat across from him. “It's so good to meet you, sir, I've heard so many stories about the Greatest Sniper in Seoul!”

Jimin faltered, wondering how the hell he was supposed to respond to the kid. He only seemed about nineteen, but his shoulders were broad and his lips were full and plump, just like his father. Even his eyes were similar to Mr. Kim’s, and Jimin thought he seemed… familiar.

“Y-You have?” he sputtered dumbly.

“Yup!” Jaeo popped the ‘p’, and Jimin’s eyes widened by just a fraction as something dawned on him. That was too familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression is VERY real and can hit even when you are feeling on top of the world! I heard that someone called Yoongi a "Mental Health Patient" at the last fan sign and that IS NOT OKAY!!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful week <3 ILYSM!
> 
> What's your favorite song from the album so far?


	19. Kim Seokjin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for dealing with my sporadic updates lol <3 
> 
> Updates will be more regular after this :))
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

After the butler had brought in a tray of tea, Jimin took out the small notebook from his pocket and clicked his pen open, raising an expectant brow at Jaeo. “So, what can you tell me about Hyeok?”

Jaeo swallowed a chunk of cookie and wiped his mouth with the corner of his sleeve. “Hyeok’s a friend of our family. He’s been ever since I can remember. He’s closer to my brother’s age- a little older, actually- so Hyeok always stuck with him. I always felt kinda left out,” Jaeo laughed, and grabbed another cookie from the tray. “Anyway, I haven't talked to him since he left his home, but my big brother still keeps in contact with him.”

“Do you happen to have his phone number or email?” Jimin asked. “It would really help us track him down.”

Jaeo frowned. “No, Daddy took away all my connections with him a few years ago.”

“Really?” His eyebrows started on a journey north. _Mr. Kim didn't want his son to be in connection with Hyeok? “_ Why?”

Jaeo shrugged. “He thought Hyeok’s family was threatening the mafia. See, his family was involved in a different gang, but it wasn't so organized… more like kkangpae.”

“Really? Do you know what the gang was called?”

He shrugged again, biting his lip. “Hyeok never told us the name.”

“Do you know if the gang is still in operation?”

Jaeo nodded. “It is.”

“So if Hyeok’ family is involved in a gang, why did he join XTC?”

Jaeo sat back in his seat, crossing his legs. “He’s never been close with his folks. Things in that gang… well, let's just say they did things differently. He wanted to piss off his parents, he trusted my dad, so he decided to join. Plus, the cash is nothing to be overlooked, of course.”

Jimin nodded, scribbling something down on his notepad. “Hyeok worked under the drug branch, did you know that?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I feel like everyone overlooks what he did for the drug industry.”

“What?”

“Hyeok practically bathed Korea in white powder.” Jaeo lifted his eyes and looked at Jimin innocently. “The people above him took all the credit, of course. He should have been promoted but he was stuck working for those greedy idiots. He came up with different ways of transporting drugs, but he never got recognition for it.”

Jimin frowned. This was new.

“I think Daddy thought since he knew Hyeok he didn't have to promote him,” Jaeo continued, “He might have thought he was just working for him to piss off his parents. But Hyeok is smart, he needs more credit for what he did.”

“What else did he do?”

“He found a way to empty the heel of a shoe and transport drugs through the hollow spot,” Jaeo supplied.

“Genius,” Jimin breathed, writing growing frantic as he tried to record everything. “I didn't know that was his doing.”

“Not many people do,” he frowned. “He should have been higher up on the ladder, but he had originally been working as a mule. I always thought mules were dirty. Didn't want my friend doing that kind of stuff, you know?”

“Mr. Jaeo…” Jimin hesitated. “You know why XTC is after him, right?”

“Daddy didn't tell me much,” Jaeo admitted. “I'm sure I only know the bare minimum.”

“Would you like me to tell you, sir?”

The kid nodded.

“Hyeok was in America with a group of mules. They were bringing back drugs from that side over to Korea. During one meeting, Mr. Kim released orders to hold mules in America so the prices of cocaine in Korea would rise. Their plane tickets were canceled, but Hyeok was soon found in Seoul International Airport with a load of drugs.”

Jaeo’s brows shot up at that. “What do you mean he was found?”

“He was caught by security,” Jimin explained.

“He never gets caught,” he said honestly. “Where did he have the drugs?”

Jimin frowned, then picked at his nails. “In a condom.”

Jaeo’s frown grew as well, but for different reasons. “That's not Hyeok.”

“What do you mean?”

The kid shook his pretty head. “He wouldn't do something like that, let alone get caught. He’s the smartest mule in the industry.”

“So what are you implying?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, curiosity peaked.

Jaeo shook his head again. “This was a team effort, maybe to distract someone.”

Jimin’s pen was flying across the paper, trying to record every word. “Distract who? The guards at the airport?”

Another head shake. “No, that wouldn't make sense. I'm thinking maybe he wanted to get caught.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. WHAT? “Um, could you explain?”

Jaeo plucked a biscuit from the tray and observed it between his fingers. “Perhaps he wanted people to know he was back in Korea. It would send off a message.” He took a small bite, chewing slowly and letting his eyes flutter shut. “Do you know how many grams he had on him?”

Jimin shook his head. “Not an exact number, no. I don't think it was a lot, though.”

“See? He wasn't trying to transport drugs, he was trying to let someone know he was back in the country.”

_That...kind of makes sense._

“But why? He was working for XTC at the time, and he knew Mr. Kim would send men out looking for him. It doesn't add up.”

Jaeo shrugged, his childish tendencies showing through again as he took one finger between his lips to lick the sugar off of it. “I don't know, honestly. I assume he could be working for someone else at the same time.” A pause, then, “It's… it's hard to leave XTC, isn't it?”

The sudden question caught Jimin off guard, and he swallowed hard, remembering watching the woman being raped right in front of his eyes. “Y-Yes.”

Jaeo nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps he was giving the mafia an excuse to cut him off.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“I mean, it was only a small amount of drugs so he couldn't have been doing it for the money. Again, he could have been sending off a signal, but I don't know what that entails. This kind of makes sense, but I still don't understand why he thought he needed an excuse to leave instead of just doing it and facing the consequences that way.”

Jimin worried his lips, head swimming with too much information. This didn't add up.

“Jimin.” The kid hesitated, eyeing his notepad and dropping his voice to a low whisper. “I can give you my brother’s phone number. I don't think I should be telling you this, but my brother still has Hyeok’s information and they keep in contact. Daddy doesn't know this, so please keep this a secret.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. Going against Mr. Kim’s back? Not a good idea. But it was either that or a dead end, he had no choice. “Of course, I’ll keep this hidden.”

Jaeo motioned for the notepad, and Jimin gratefully handed it over. He scribbled a series of numbers on the yellow page. “I really can't tell you anything else, but he can help you. He may be able to tell you Hyeok’s whereabouts and the motives behind this recent event.”

“Thank you,” Jimin said honestly.

Jaeo grinned, flashing his pearly white teeth. “I'm glad to help, sir.”

“Do you mind if I show this number to my partner? She’ll keep it a secret as well.”

“If you trust her, I trust her,” he giggled.

_I guess I'm talking to the child, now._

“I should take my leave, I don't want to overdo my stay.”

Jaeo waved him off. “It's no problem, sir. I don't get many visitors, so this was a nice surprise.”

“It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“I told you, Jaeo was fine,” he chuckled.

“And I told you Jimin was fine,” he joked. He was still a little nervous around the edges, but this kid didn't act like Mr. Kim in the least, and he found himself growing comfortable with the boy. He did feel a little bad for him, Jimin wasn't sure how often he got out, and he was thankful for the kid’s insight. He was surprisingly… smarter than Jimin had anticipated.

“Alright then, Jimin, it was a pleasure to meet you as well,” he smiled.

“Likewise, Jaeo.”

“Hey- I hope you keep me updated on this,” he said seriously, surprising Jimin once again at the way he switches personas so easily. “If you do end of catching him, please let me know so I can see him before… before the mafia gets its hands on him.”

Jimin nodded, understand the meaning of his words. “I’ll let you know.”

“You have my personal number, right?”

“Yes, I’ll contact you before anyone can harm him.”

Jaeo’s shoulders melted with relief, nodding. “Thank you, Jimin. This really means a lot to me. I can't go against Daddy's wishes, but I do want to see him before he… well, you know.”

“I know.”

He left a little while later, thanking Jaeo profusely for his help and promising to keep the boy updated. The butler- Sado was his name- drove him promptly home, asking Jimin if he enjoyed his visit. Surprising himself, Jimin did.

 

As Jimin typed in the code to his apartment door, he was also juggling his phone while trying to find Jisu’s contact. He finally finds it and presses call as he stumbled inside. She picks up on the fourth ring.

“Jimin?”

“Hey, I just got back from the meeting,” he said, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over the back of the couch.

“You were there a while, huh? It's pretty late.”

“Yes, we had a lot to discuss.”

“I hope he had a lot to tell you, too.”

“He did… but I don't if it’ll lead us anywhere, to be honest.”

“Really?” She sounded disappointed. “Fuck, he was our last hope.”

“Not necessarily.” Loosening his tie, he told Jisu the story. “He gave me his older brother’s phone number. Apparently, he’s closer with Hyeok than Jaeo is.”

“Seriously? That's great!”

“I know.” He pulled the silk out from his collar. “Jisu, he’s really fucking smart.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean he’s smart,” Jimin said, a light tone of awe in his voice. “He pieced together a lot about Hyeok’s capture. He thinks it was intentional and that-”

“Whoa, hold up,” she said, cutting him off. “Jaeo thinks Hyeok was captured on purpose?”

“Yeah, and it kinda makes sense!”

“Slow down, tell me the whole story.”

 

-

Friday

 

Jimin sat in Jisu’s office, watching her work with a cup of steaming tea in one hand and his phone in the other. It was open to his chat with Yoongi, the older asking him his plans for the evening.

 

 **ChimChim:** i'm stuck at work :((

 **Yoongi:** how was that thing you had to do on friday?

 **ChimChim:** it went well and i'm hoping ill be able to close this case up soon

 **Yoongi:** close as in find that guy?

 **ChimChim:** yeah

 **Yoongi:** i hope u find him soon taehyung is getting antsy

 **Yoongi:** hes been blastin beyonce all fucking day

 **Yoongi:** says it's in ur honor

 **Yoongi:** didn't know u liked beyonce

 

Jimin chuckled, and Jisu shot him a glare.

 

 **ChimChim:** i do but u weren't supposed to kno that :(

 **ChimChim:** tell him to get a life  & that i love him <3 <3 <3

 **Yoongi:** how about no

 **ChimChim:** :0

 **Yoongi:** fuck i gtg

 **Yoongi:** he just broke another chair

 

Jimin burst out laughing this time, throwing his head back and almost spilling his tea all over himself.

“What the hell is so funny?” Jisu hissed. She didn't like being interrupted while she worked.

“Nothing,” Jimin giggled, hiding his mouth in his hand.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair to peer over the top of her computer. “Shut up while I call that Jaeo guy’s brother.”

Jimin perked up in his seat as Jisu typed in a phone number on the receiver. “Jaeo’s older brother?”

“Isn't that what I said?” She huffed. “Now be quiet.”

Jimin snapped his mouth shut and leaned towards her desk, ears peeled for any snippets of conversation he could hear. “Speaker!” he hissed.

Jisu shot him another deadly glare and put one finger against her lips in a shushing motion. Suddenly her eyes grew wide and she was frantically speaking into the phone. “Hello, I work for XTC and was given your number in assistance for a case.”

Jimin could only hear a muffled voice from the other end as the man responded.

“Who gave you the number?” she seemingly repeated, looking a little nervous as she twisted a black lock of hair between her fingers. “Your younger brother, Mr. Kim Jaeo, I think.”

Another stretch of silence.

“Yes, he said you could help us.”

Jimin shifted in his seat and took a tentative sip of his tea.

“He said you had connections to-” She stopped and frowned, apparently having been cut off by the voice. After a moment she said, “Yes sir, Hyeok. I was wondering if you could help us. His file on the mafia database is locked. Your father said it may have been you.”

The call ended twenty minutes later. Jisu said it was hard to persuade him to agree to help them, but in the end, the older brother had caved and decided to help. He wouldn't tell Jisu anything about the locked file, he even denied knowing about the database in the first place. Jimin felt something was up.

“I'm going to meet him tomorrow,” she said after she replayed the whole conversation.

Jimin groaned. “Tomorrow?”

“It was the only time he could do it.”

“I don't have to go, right?”

She grinned and shook her head in disbelief. “No, Park Jimin, you don't have to go.”

“Thank Jesus,” he breathed.

“But Kim Seokjin did seem pretty interested in my partner,” she joked. “He said he wouldn't mind meeting you.”

Jimin chuckled. _Wait_.

_What?_

_Kim Seokjin?_

Jimin shook the thought out of his head. There were a million fucking Kim Seokjin's in Korea.

But… the lips. The shoulders. The eyes.

“Did you tell him my name?” Jimin asked slowly.

“Yeah.” Jisu frowned. “Is there a problem?”

_Shit._

"I think I want to come with you to meet him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm DDAENG THO YES PLEASE
> 
> RAP LINE ARE GODS I DONT MAKE THE RULES
> 
> ilysm:)


	20. Shit, it's Really Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't regret the title of this ch btw
> 
> So you know when I promised less sporadic updates? Um, it didn't work out as you can see hahaha. That's how the whole summer is pretty much going to go, so strap in loveys. 
> 
> xxxtentacion died recently and I've been pretty depressed about that- he was such a huge inspiration for my writing so it's been kinda a chore to write recently but I'm not gonna let go of this au <3

Jimin left Jisu’s office as fast as he could- with the promise of meeting up with this Kim Seokjin tomorrow- but then he realized he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now. In fact, that's the last thing he wanted to be alone with, even if he knew that Kim Seokjin was the most common name in all of Korea. Everything just seemed so  _familiar_ that the uneasiness was given. There was still a little sane part of his mind that told Jimin this might just be a coincidence- the broad shoulders and the eyes and those _lips_ \- but the other part of his mind told him this was no coincidence.

So after Jimin left the bar he marched down the street straight to Yoongi’s parlor. He made it there in record time, and he barely had time to peek through the window before Taehyung spotted him and immediately ran to get the door. Jimin smiled and jogged to meet his best friend at the door, Kim Seokjin temporarily forgotten.

Tae threw the door open and cheered, “Jiminie!”

“Taetae!” he cheered back, smile growing even wider. He loved to see Taehyung happy, it was possibly one of the best feelings in the world. Before he could ponder further he was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug, but he quickly reciprocated.

“It feels like I haven't talked to you in forever!” Taehyung whined. “At least swing by the apartment sometime, idiot! I'm all alone over there!”

“Sorry, sorry. You know I’ve been busy. Exams are starting soon.”

“I know.” He pulled back and grinned. “Come inside, I'm sure you wanna see Yoongi hyung.”

Jimin slapped his arm in mock offense but followed his friend inside anyway. His eyes immediately searched for Yoongi, who was bent over a customer’s arm, but the older looked up when he heard the two and sent a bright smile towards Jimin.

“Hey Jimin,” he greeted.

“Hi hyung,” Jimin grinned. Yoongi always had this special smile reserved just for him, flashing his gums and eyes turning to crescents. “How are you?”

“Good. Lemme finish up.”

“Okay.” Jimin made himself comfortable on the couch, Taehyung plopping down next to him and burying his head in Jimin’s chest. He patted the honey-colored hair fondly.

“So why’d you come over so randomly?” Tae asked.

Jimin frowned and lowered his voice. “I was feeling stressed. I just got let out of work.”

“Ah.” His friend nodded in understanding. “How’s Jisu doing?”

“I think she’s stressed, too.” Jimin leaned his head back against the couch and sighed. “We’re both meeting Mr. Kim’s oldest son tomorrow. Hopefully, we’ll get  
to the end of Hyeok’s case.

Taehyung’s head snapped up. “Huh? Really?”

Jimin had told Taehyung about meeting with Kim Jaeo earlier, practically vomiting all the details of the case onto his friend, but meeting with the older Kim was still unexpected, even for him.

“Yeah. If he can just get me Hyeok’s location I can go in and- well, you know.” Jimin eyes Yoongi’s customer.

Kill Hyeok.

Taehyung seemed to understand and nodded. “Hopefully this will be over soon. You need a break, Jiminie.”

Jimin snorted. That was an understatement. “At least I have you and Yoongi.”

Taehyung grinned. “You seemed to really be smitten, huh?”

He slapped Tae’s arm again, a blush slapped across his face. “Shut up.”

Taehyung raised his arms in mock surrender and laughed. “Just stating the obvious!”

Before Jimin could hit the piercer again, Yoongi started talking to his customer in that soft voice of his. “You can take the protective bandage off in a day, then clean it with this lotion every day until it heals. After a few weeks, you can come in for a touch up if you need to, on the house.”

The girl smiled and nodded, thanking Yoongi profusely before following him to the register. When she walked passed on the way out Jimin caught a glimpse of the tattoo. It was a beautiful black and white geometric sleeve, covering her whole arm. Jimin couldn't imagine how long that took.

Before she could step out Yoongi called, “Now you can finally show your parents!”

She turned back to him with a sly grin. “They’ll love it.”

“Send them my apologies,” he chuckled and shook his head.

Jimin almost choked. Yoongi was just so- “ _Ouch_!”

Taehyung had nailed him in the side, a knowing smile on his face. “Whipped,” he muttered under his breath.

When the girl left Yoongi shut the cash register and finally turned to the duo with a small smile. “Hey Jimin.”

“Hi hyung. The tattoo looked really nice.” That was the only thing Jimin could think to say, and Taehyung snorted.

Yoongi laughed. “Thanks. She came in here trying to piss off her parents. I remember when I used to be like that.”

“Weren't we all,” Tae muttered in amusement. “Young and naive.”

“We’re still fucking young,” Yoongi protested. “Don't go saying that now! Jeez, I feel old…”

Jimin laughed. “You’re not old, hyung.”

“You look older, though, with all those scary tattoos,” Taehyung pointed out, giggling.

Yoongi stuck up his middle finger at the piercer. “At least I didn't hole-punch metal into my face!”

“Yah! Take that back! They look cool!”

“Sure,” Yoongi quipped sarcastically.

Taehyung suddenly tuned to Jimin with a wild look in his eye, forgetting his little argument. “What are you doing for dinner, Jiminie?”

“Uh… I dunno?”

“Common, the shop closes at five, Yoongi will treat us to dinner, right hyung?”

“Hey! I didn't agree to that!”

 

Jimin stood sandwiched between Yoongi and Taehyung as they all stared at the menu above them. The oldest tattoo artist had caved and agreed to buy them all dinner, so they hit the streets in search of some cheap street food. Taehyung spotted a ramen shop he eats at all the time and dragged the two of them inside through the plastic makeshift door, greeting the cook like an old friend. Apparently, the cook recognized the piercer, too, because a jolly smile crossed his pudgy face. “Hey, kid! Back again?”

“Yup, you know I can't stay away from this place for long!”

The big man let out a booming laugh. “Well take your time, you can order whenever.”

Yoongi was a bit dumbfounded and turned to Jimin. “Does he make friends with everyone like this?”

Jimin smiled fondly, eyeing his best friend. “Pretty much. Everyone loves him.”

Yoongi looked at his coworker with something akin to awe, a small smile taking over his own features. “He’s something else.”

Taehyung turned to them and pointed at the menu. “You guys know what you want?”

They ordered and Yoongi- begrudgingly- paid for their food, shooting Taehyung a glare. “You owe me, kid,” he grumbled, but there was a tiny smile pulling at his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay hyung.”

The night went on in a similar manner, Taehyung saying something dumb or rude and Yoongi shooting back with something equally rude. Jimin found it quite fun watching the two bicker. Taehyung often had a hard time seeing reason, and while Yoongi frequently had valid points to make, the younger couldn't seem to get any of it past his thick skull.

Taehyung said something akin to his ‘amazing drawing ability’ and Yoongi asked him in the most sarcastic voice if he could even manage a stick figure. “I can draw!” he said defensively.

“Tae, I've never seen you even pick up a pencil,” Jimin giggled.

“Yah! Park Jimin, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I could become a tattoo artist if I wanted,” the piercer huffed indignantly.

“Sure,” Yoongi chuckled.

“Hey! If you’ve never seen my art before how do you know I'm not, like, Van Gogh or some shit?”

“I have seen your art,” Yoongi shot. “You doodle on the fucking appointment calendar!”

Taehyung opened his mouth then closed it again, looking baffled. “Well.”

Jimin and Yoongi both burst out laughing.

When it was time to leave Jimin gave Yoongi a hug- not missing the eyebrow wiggle Taehyung shot him- and just before they pulled apart the older asked him,  
“Is everything okay?”

Jimin frowned. “Yeah, why?”

“I dunno, you looked pretty shaken up when you came into the parlor today,” he shrugged, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Oh- I, uh,” Jimin faltered, searching for words, “I’ll tell you about it soon, promise.”

Thankfully Yoongi didn't press any further but a little frown tugged his lips down. “Okay. Be safe?”

Jimin attempted a smile. “Always.”

 

-

 

 _Be safe my ass_ , Jimin thought sourly, Yoongi words playing in his mind as he walked down the sidewalk next to Jisu. She was looking a little paler than usual, and Jimin assumed he looked just as nervous. The company car had let them out just a few steps away from the desired meeting place, a hotel on the outskirts of Gangnam.

“Shit,” Jisu muttered under her breath as they approached the grand double doors.

“Stop that, it's not a big deal,” Jimin hissed. He couldn't understand why Jisu was so fucking nervous when he had the itching idea that Kim Seokjin, the mafia’s processor, was the same Kim Seokjin that he knew.

“Shut up, let me be a scared bitch,” she snapped, pulling a door open.

They walked up to the front desk and asked for meeting room 2a, and the woman pointed them in the right direction with a polite smile. They quickly located the right room but stopped outside the oak door.

“Um, should we knock?” she wondered aloud.

“I should think so.”

Neither of them made a move.

“Fuck it,” Jimin muttered, and rapped hard against the wood twice.

A low voice came clear as day. “Enter.”

He spared one glance at Jisu, held his breath, and pushed the door open, hoping he wouldn't recognize Kim Seokjin.

Jimin glanced around the room, frowning. There was no one here. Only one long meeting table and-

“ _Huh_?” Before he could even utter another word Jimin’s chest was being slammed into the wall by some unknown force. The air was punched from his lungs and he struggled to take another breath, gasping loudly. He could vaguely register Jisu yelling something behind him before a hand clamped down on the back of his head and his cheek was being smashed against the wall.

“Stop this investigation right now,” the man growled, voice dangerously close to Jimin’s ear.

It was so _familiar_ , yet so full of hostility Jimin almost didn't believe it.

“Stop looking for Hyeok, you won't find him. Tell my father his son killed him-”

“Get _off_!” Jisu yelled.

Suddenly the hands were off of Jimin and a loud crack resonated through the air. Jimin flinched; that was the definitely the sound of knuckled hitting skin.

Jimin whipped around to be faced with none other than Kim Seokjin. The one he knew.

Time was frozen, and Jimin could see Jisu’s bleeding figure slumped against the meeting table. He could see the welt forming on the side of her cheek and the trickle of blood inching down her face.

Then when he looked up at Seokjin’s face he could see those slightly moist lips and flawless skin. After a long stretch of time, he could see the recognition seeping into those chocolate brown orbs and the way the older man’s eyebrows pinched up in fear.

Because Kim Seokjin knew Park Jimin, and Park Jimin knew him.

“J-Jimin?” Those pretty lips parted, and with that, his composure cracked completely.

Jimin fell against the wall, eyes wide. He  _knew_ it, so why did it  _surprise_ him so much?

“Jin hyung?”

He didn't even register that he was crying until a tear trickled into his mouth.

Jin was instantly rushing to his side and crouching down next to the sobbing boy. “Jimin, baby, don't cry.”

That only made him cry harder, curling into himself. _This is a dream_.

“Shh, it's okay, I won't hurt you,” he soothed, keeping his hands by his sides but so obviously itching to reach out and comfort his dongsae. “Jimin, can you look at me?”

Jimin didn't even send a glance in his direction.

Jin stood and thrust a hand through his hair, chewing his bottom lip. He paced uselessly, eyeing the girl slumped against the table and then sending a look back to the youngest. Eventually, he stopped pacing, apparently coming to a conclusion. “Should I call someone, Jiminie? Who can I call?”

Jimin barely even heard the words, but his sobbing stopped with a soft hiccup. _Who should Jin call?_   _Should I trust Jin anymore_?

“Taehyung?” Jin suggested, urgency clear in his voice.

Jimin shook his head, he didn't need Taehyung knowing that his hyung worked in the mafia. That would absolutely crush his best friend.

“Hobi?”

Hobi didn't know one thing about the mafia, how was Jimin supposed to explain this to Hoseok without exposing himself and Jin?

“Yoongi?”

Jimin mulled over this for a moment. Yoongi was the only one who knew about his involvement in the mafia without actually participating in it himself. But _Jin_. Jin was Yoongi’s only hyung, how would he feel about this? He didn't want to ruin their brotherly relationship.

“Don't call him,” Jimin said quietly. “Don't call anyone.”

“Jimin,” he hesitated.

“Shut up, Seokjin-ssi,” he hissed, pulling himself off the floor to check on Jisu. He cradled her bloody cheek and shot a glare to the oldest man.

“Who was that?” Jin asked, sounding a little guilty, but sounding more surprised that his dongsae would talk down to him like that.

“My noona,” Jimin snapped, observing her cut.

Seokjin looked at his feet. “I'm sorry, I didn't know… well, I didn't know you worked for-”

“I know.”

It was too much for either of them to process.

“So… Mr. Kim’s son?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jin shrugged, eyes still downcast.

Silence.

“Are you  _the_ Park Jimin?”

“Which one?” the youngest question with a bitter laugh.

“Um, Seoul’s Greatest Sniper?”

“In the flesh.” Another humorless chuckle.

“Jimin,” the oldest whispered, voice full of something undetectable. It was so raw yet so soft. It held too much understanding, and Jimin wanted to throw up.

“How did you get into this?”

Jimin shot him a look. “I dunno if I should tell you or not.”

“You can trust me, Jimin.”

“Can I?”

Jin went silent.

“Because you just tried to kill me,” the sniper observed.

“I'm not against you, Jimin.”

“Well, it seems you’re against XTC, huh? Unless you really did kill Hyeok which I doubt you did, considering all the things I know about you.”

“I thought I knew a lot of things about you too, Jimin. I didn't exactly make you out to be a killer, either.”

“So you’re saying you did kill Hyeok?” Jimin snapped, irked at the title. He was  _not_ a killer.

“Well, no.”

“So he’s alive.”

“Y-yes.”

“Fuck!” Jimin’s outburst made Jin almost jump out of his skin. Apparently, he wasn't used to his soft little dongsae cursing so much.

“Jimin, calm down.”

“No, _Jin_ , I'm not going to calm down!” he yelled.

Jin raised a brow and sneered. “Don't talk to your hyung like that.”

Jimin barked out a laugh. “I'm giving myself a free pass, do you think that's fair? After all, after they realize I called off the investigation XTC’s gonna shoot me for treason.”

“They aren't.”

“Who’s side are you on, Jin?” He was close to hysteria, eyes wide and unfocused. His breathing was becoming radical as he thrust a shaky hand through his silver locks.

Jin was looking more and more concerned every passing second. “Baby, calm down, you’re going to have a panic attack.”

“Don't  _baby_ me!” he snapped. “Just answer the question! Who’s side are you on?”

“Jimin, you need to slow down. We can't talk until you calm down,” Jin said, voice laced with a threatening tone.

 _He's right_ , Jimin thought. _We're not going to get anywhere like this_.

He pulled a chair from the meeting table and unceremoniously dropped himself in it, breathing out a sigh and rubbing at his forehead.

Jin sent Jisu one last glance. “What do you think we should do about her?”

Jimin followed his gaze and chewed his bottom lip. “ _You_ fucking knocked her out, what do _You_ think we should do?”

“Well I don't know!”

“I mean, she’ll wake up eventually,” Jimin shrugged. “I need to check for a concussion, though.”

“I didn't punch her  _that_  hard!”

“You punched her hard enough to knock her out cold!”

“Sorry about that. She attacked me.”

“Well maybe if you had kept your hands off me-”

“I didn't know it was _you_ , Jimin!” Jin snapped. “How was I supposed to _know_? I didn't expect Yoongi’s sweet little boyfriend to be a sniper!”

“I didn't expect my hyung to be the heir to a mafia empire either, but here we are!”

“Stop yelling!”

“You stop yelling!”

“Does Yoongi even know you work for a mafia?” Jin hissed.

“Yes! Does he know his only hyung just tried to kill his boyfriend?”

“I did not try to  _kill_ you!” he yelled.

“Fuck you!” Jimin yelled back, angrily stomping his foot and throwing his head back.

There was a long stretch of silence, and then Jisu stirred. The two men’s eyes snapped to her but she didn't wake up.

“What are we doing, Jimin?” the oldest finally sighed, falling into his own chair with an exasperated breath.

“I don't know,” Jimin said honestly. “Sorry for yelling.”

“S’okay,” he waved him off. “I get it.”

“So… do you actually work for XTC?”

Jin looked up at him and then back down at the ground. “No. My father is training me to take over the empire when he passes.”

“Are you going to?”

Jin shrugged. “He’s still young… what, fifty-five I think? It’ll be awhile unless he’s killed or something.”

“So who… who do you work for?”

“Nobody. Well, not officially.”

“What does that mean?”

Jin shrugged again. “I don't like XTC. I don't want to take over the business so I'm looking for some… secondary plans.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“I shouldn't tell you,” Jin said honestly. “You work for XTC and if they know you’ve been hiding details from them they’ll kill you.”

“What would I be hiding?”

“Can't tell you,” he shrugged. “But it may ultimately lead to the… downfall of the mafia.”

Jimin rubbed at his temple and shook his head. “I'm so confused right now, hyung.”

“I know. It's better if you stay that way.”

“Do you happen to know anything about Numbers?”

Jin stiffened, a sure sign that he  _did_ know a thing or two about Numbers.

“Hyung?”

“Jimin, I'm doing this for your own safety, please don't push me.”

“I'm worried about you, too,” he whined.

Jin shot him a fond smile. “You don't have to worry about me, I’ll be just fine.”

“Sure,” Jimin snorted, trying to lighten the mood.

Jisu stirred again.

“Does Namjoon hyung know about-this?” Jimin asked hesitantly.

Jin’s face twisted and he frowned. “No, he doesn't know.”

Jimin looked away, lip between his teeth.

“How did you tell Yoongi?”

“He kind of found out,” Jimin shrugged, remembering the day he had to stomp into his parlor with a gun. “He took the news oddly well.”

“Yoongi… he’s been through a lot. I'm not surprised.”

“He won't tell me about his past,” Jimin shrugged, twirling slightly in the chair.

“He’s a very closed off person. He has his reasons, too. He’s been burned before.”

“I try not to take it personally,” Jimin smiled weakly. “I just wish he would trust me enough to share his feelings.”

“Jimin, I promise he trusts you. In fact, I've never seen him look so happy with someone. He really does care about you. Give it time.”

“I know.”

“I think he’s embarrassed about his past, honestly,” Jin supplied.

“Why would he be embarrassed?”

Jin shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him, I shouldn't be the one spilling all his secrets.”

“Right.”

“So how did you join the mafia?” Jin asked.

“I- would rather not get into it, if that's okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry, I just assumed- nevermind.”

“It's alright.” If he told Jin why he joined the mafia he would need to also tell him that Taehyung was working for XTC, and the oldest had enough surprise for one day. The poor guy could only take so much.

Jisu let out a weak cough.

“How should we walk away from this?” Jimin asked. “What should I tell XTC regarding Hyeok?”

“We need to keep this meeting under wraps. Hyeok… well, that's kind of difficult.”

“Is he working against the mafia? Jaeo said he might be working for another gang.”

“Ah, that's right, you talked to my little brother,” Jin mused. “Hyeok isn't working for anyone right now. He’s more… freelance, if you know what I mean.”

“No idea, actually.”

“We stand on equal ground. He can't die; not right now.”

“Why?”

“I can't  _tell_ you, Jimin, not unless you want to get killed. Drop it.”

“Sorry.”

“Drag on the investigation for as long as you can,” Jin said, ignoring the younger’s apology. “I'm going to try and help you. I’ll buy Hyeok a plane ticket to  
Japan, give XTC some solid evidence to pack up the artillery and follow him, then pretend to look for him.”

“What do I tell the mafia when I can't find him?”

“Along with some convincing on my part, I’ll make my father drop the case for now. I’ll convince him Hyeok’s gone off the radar.”

“This is a shit plan.”

“It's last minute.”

“True.”

“Hyeok’s actually not even in Korea or Japan right now so you don't have to worry about accidentally finding him.”

“Fabulous.” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Can we pretend this meeting never happened?”

“What meeting?”

Jin grinned. “Atta boy.”

“It's still weird to think you’ve been Mr. Kim’s son this whole time,” Jimin said.

“To think cute little Park Jimin was a sniper,” Jin mused, “Now that is equally weird.”

“I guess I can't argue with you there.”

“You won't tell Namjoon or Yoongi, right?”

“Of course not, hyung.”

“I really need to tell Namjoon,” Jin sighed, closing his eyes and placing his head in his hands. “I just so worried. He… he’ll hate me.”

“I don't know how he’ll react,” Jimin said honestly, “But you obviously aren't too keen about joining the mafia, either.”

“True. But I'm the son of a mafia _leader_.”

“Hyung, you aren't even in the mafia yet. You have time.”

“I know. Thanks, Jimin.”

“It's okay.”

“Come’ere,” Jin caved, standing and holding out his arms for Jimin.

Jimin smiled and wrapped Jin in a warm hug.

“Sorry this is so messed up, Jiminie.”

“S’not your fault.” Jimin buried his head in Seokjin’s chest. “Nothing’s changed, hyung.”

Jin laughed. “Only in our dreams, Park Jimin.”

Jisu let out a little sound and Jimin eyed the older man. “Maybe you should go before she wakes up. I’ll tell her you meant no harm.”

Jin nodded. “Sorry about that, again.”

“We’ll talk soon?”

“Yeah, let’s keep in touch.”

“Alright, see you later, hyung. You’ll have to swing by the parlor sometime.”

“Sure.”

 

Later that night Jimin downed a whole bottle of soju by himself and threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They both took the news relatively well? What will happen when it finally sinks in?????? ;)
> 
>  
> 
> AND THANK U FOR 300 KUDOS???? ILYSM BBYS
> 
> (I just started plans for another fic when this one finally comes to a close and I'm kinda excited :D)


	21. Phone Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short chapter but I wanted to update because I'm going away for a week and can't write :(
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

He was so,  _so_ drunk, and that's how Jimin found himself on the phone with Kim Namjoon at two in the morning. There really wasn't a reason for this call, it was just simply the first name Jimin’s eyes landed on when he opened his contacts. He wasn't about to spill all of Jin’s secrets to him, nor was he going to spill his _own_ secrets, (or he hoped not) but he really just needed to talk to someone.

When Namjoon answered the phone his voice came over groggy and rough. “Jimin?”

“Hey, hyung.” His tone suggested they do this every day.

“...What happened? Are you- okay?”

Jimin took a long sip of soju and giggled. “I don't- shit, what was I gonna say?”

“What the he-” Namjoon stopped himself and coughed. “Are you okay, Jimin? It's kind of… _early_.”

“Yeah, yeah, well I'm just not _tired_.”

“Are you drunk?”

Jimin shrugged and took another long sip. “Can I ask you a question, hyung?”

“...Sure?” He sounded hesitant, and a bit worried.

“What would you do if you knew something important?”

Namjoon sighed audibly from the other end, and Jimin heard the shifting of sheets and the creaking of a bed. “Something important? You need to be more specific.”

“Like, something that someone you loved didn't know.”

“Uhh, could you be more clear?”

Jimin huffed and threw his head back against the couch. “Not really, no.”

There was a long pause. “You’re drunk, aren't you.”

“That's unimportant, Namjoon hyung.” Jimin raised the neck of the bottle to his lips and whistled into it, giggling when he heard the weird sound it made. “Just, like… imagine you knew something really really important about someone you knew.”

“...Okay?”

“But the people  _they_ loved didn't know.”

Silence. “Yeah?”

“What would you do?”

“I… I don't know? What are you talking about? What is this really important thing you’re talking about?”

“I dunno, like, figuratively, something that could hurt the person.”

“Well if I knew something like that I would want to keep the person safe no matter what.”

“Oh. Alright.”

“Jimin, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Namjoon persisted. “I'm worried about you.”

“I'm...fine.”

“....Okay.” Namjoon didn't seem so sure, but thankfully he dropped it. “I'm always here if you need to talk.”

“I know. Thanks, hyung.”

“Sure. Goodnight, Jimin.”

“Night.”

 

-

 

Yoongi walked into the kitchen and went straight to the fridge, Jeremy padding in after him. He grabbed the carton of orange juice and shook it while he yawned. Soon after he settled at the counter with a bowl of rice Namjoon padded into the kitchen, hair askew and dark bags under his eyes.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” Yoongi snorted. “Late start, huh?”

“Guess who called me at two in the morning?” Namjoon wasn't laughing, and Yoongi immediately frowned.

“Who?”

“Jimin.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. “Huh? Why? Is he okay?”

The younger shook his head. “He was drunk out of his brains."

Yoongi’s eyebrows pinched together and he stood to grab his phone, finding Jimin’s contact and pressing call. Nobody answered. “Shit, he didn't answer.”

“Want me to go check on him?”’

“No, I can do it,” Yoongi mumbled, putting his plate in the sink and going to his room to get changed. He decided to skip his daily shower for time’s sake- he had to be at work in two hours- and grabbed his wallet and keys before heading out. “See you tonight, Joon.”

“Kay, let me know how Jimin’s doing.”

Yoongi closed the door and jogged down the steps, pushing out the door into the cold air. He rode the busy morning subway into the city and in twenty minutes he was walking down the block towards Jimin’s apartment building.

When he hurried inside, the same receptionist who seems to be the face of the complex greeted him with a polite smile. “How may I help you today, sir?”

“I'm here to see Park Jimin,” he said, tugging his scarf down to his chin so he could speak clearly.

“Of course, you remember the way?”

“Yes, thank you.” He wasn't stopped by security so Yoongi went straight to the elevators and pressed the button to take him up. The doors quickly slid open and Yoongi found his wait to the top quite nerve-wracking.

_Why would Jimin call Namjoon so early? Was it just because he was drunk? Wait, why was he even drunk in the first place?_

All his thoughts faded away as the elevator landed on the top floor, and Yoongi got off to locate the glossy red door. He knocked twice and waited. He expected this, so he knocked again, this time louder. After five minutes of standing outside his door, he finally pressed the wall receiver and said, “Can you _please_ answer the door, Jimin?”

No answer.

“ _Wake up_!” Yoongi shouted into the speaker, then kicked the door.

Two minutes later the door slowly clicked open to reveal a groggy looking Park Jimin. He was only wearing a pair of hello kitty boxers and a white t-shirt, which Yoongi found kind of endearing, but he wasn't about to admit that.

“Hyung?” Jimin’s voice was scratchy and low, and he seemed to be hungover if his red eyes were any indicator. Suddenly his body jolted and he was throwing a hand over his mouth before turning on his heel and dashing back inside, leaving the door askew.

Yoongi bolted in after him, only to be greeted with the sound of distant retching. He dashed into the bathroom to see Jimin hunched over the toilet, puking his guts out. “Fucking- Jimin,” he muttered unintelligibly, going to his side and placing a hand on the small of his back, rubbing gently as Jimin coughed up what Yoongi assumed was the explanation of last night’s phone call.

When he was done- or at least, Yoongi hoped he was done for now- Jimin sat back on the cold marble floor and curled into a ball.

“Hey, hey,” Yoongi soothed, sitting next to his- boyfriend? Can they call each other that now?- and reaching out for his hand. “It's okay. Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, gripping Yoongi’s hand tightly. “Sorry for making you come over and take care of me like a child.”

“No, it's okay. I was just worried about you. Namjoon said you called him last night.”

Jimin rubbed his head with his free hand and groaned. “I don't remember, _shit_. What did I say?”

“Dunno, but I don't think it was anything too bad.”

“Thank heavens,” he muttered. “Fingers crossed that I didn't tell him about my f-fucking _job_.”

Yoongi sighed and rubbed a thumb across Jimin’s knuckles soothingly. “I don't think you did. Namjoon would have woken up a lot differently if you told him something like that.”

Jimin stayed silent.

“Where do you keep the medicine?”

“Top cabinet,” Jimin answered, pointing to the sink. “It's behind the mirror.”

Yoongi stood up and retrieved the bottle of Advil, going to the kitchen and getting him a glass of water before returning and helping Jimin down the pills.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jimin said, looking a little sheepish.

Yoongi waved it off. “Are you hungry? You should eat something.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, standing up of wobbly legs and following Yoongi to the kitchen and sitting on one of the bar stools and the older poured him a glass of juice.

It was silent for a moment before Yoongi hesitantly asked, “Jiminie, why did you get so drunk last night? Were you alone?”

“Yeah. I was just… shit, I need to grow up, huh? Getting so smashed that I'm hungover for days.”

Yoongi frowned. “What happened?”

Jimin sighed. Lying wasn't going to help him now. “I've been meeting with Mr. Kim’s sons recently so I can catch that guy- you know, Hyeok.”

Yoongi nodded.

“I just… I'm really stressed out. And I met the oldest son yesterday and I recognized him.”

“You recognized him?” Yoongi’s eyebrows pinched together.

“...Yeah. It was just kind of hard because I didn't expect to know who it was.”

“I understand,” Yoongi said quietly. _Actually, I don't._

“Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry.”

Jimin sighed. “I want to be your boyfriend, not your child.”

“I don't see you as my child,” he assured softly, then grinned. “Just a really high maintenance boyfriend.”

“Shut up!” Jimin laughed.

Yoongi made him some cereal- give him some credit, Jimin hadn't been shopping in forever- and they sat on the couch, the younger munching contently as Yoongi flipped through the channels in vain. “There’s literally nothing on.”

“We could watch a drama,” Jimin suggested, “They’re always on.”

Yoongi wrinkled his nose and scoffed. “You like those?”

He giggled and hit the tattoo artist in the arm. “My mom used to watch them all the time. I caught on.”

“Then a drama it is.”

Now Yoongi had never been one for intimacy- let alone _cuddling_ \- but he found himself curled up next to Jimin, threading a long tattooed hand through his silver locks as they watched the television. It was _way_ more of a domestic move than he could ever have seen himself doing, but somehow, with Jimin, it felt kind of _normal_.

An hour later Yoongi looked down at the now sleeping boy-  _his_ boyfriend- and grinned. _He must have been tired_. He left Jimin a note telling him that he had to leave for work and left it on the coffee table, then grabbed his jacket and spared Jimin one last glance before heading out the door.

 

-

 

When Jimin woke up he felt oddly cold. He shivered and sat up, yawning loudly as he looked around in a sleepy haze. _Oh, Yoongi left_. He found a sticky note on the side table.

 

_Jimin,_

_I had to leave for work. I’ll text you tonight for dinner??_

_-Yoongi_

 

Jimin grinned and slipped the note in his pocket.

After taking a shower and putting his cereal bowl in the sink, he padded into his room to check his phone. _Maybe I'll next Namjoon and Apolo_ -

“What the hell?”

 

_[29 missed calls]_

_[56 new texts]_

 

_[8 new voicemails]_

 

Jimin swallowed and hurriedly opened the text from Taehyung, hands shaking.

 

Gucciboy **:** mr kim was shot

Gucciboy **:** go underground RIGHT NOW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOWOWOW the 21ST CHAPTER? Whoa it been a long ride 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me even through my spontaneous updates hahaha
> 
> I'll be ending this little fic quite soon so I hope you stay tuned <3
> 
> (okay who am I kidding It'll prob end up being like 30 chapters lmao)
> 
> Have a good week! ily


	22. Dumped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was singlehandedly the shortest and hardest chapter I have ever written. Sorry in advance <3

Jimin was working on autopilot, getting dressed as fast as he could and opening the small cabinet in his room to pull out different guns and stuffing them in his black duffle bag. He barely made a sound as he tugged his boots on and threw a trench coat over his back. Pulling a dust mask over his mouth, Jimin grabbed his phone and was out the door in a matter of minutes, impatiently waiting for the elevator to arrive as he tapped his foot on the ground, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Just as he was walking through the opening doors, Jisu called. Jimin pressed the button for the ground floor before he answered. “Jisu?”

“Jimin, thank God,” she exhaled. “Where are you?”

“I'm leaving my apartment right now.” The elevator jolted to a start, dropping downwards. “Where do you need me?”

“Get into hiding.”

Jimin frowned, exiting the elevator. “What do you mean go into hiding?” Before he gave her a chance to answer, he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned to the receptionist standing at the front desk. “Please don't let anyone into my apartment until I come back.”

“Yes, sir,” she bowed.

“Thank you.” Jimin put the speaker back to his ear to repeat his question. “Sorry, why do I need to hide?”

“W-What?” she hissed. “You haven't heard yet?”

“Heard what?” Jimin hissed back, walking into the cold Seoul air.

“They think  _you_ shot him.”

Jimin froze.  _What?_

“You gotta get underground right _now_ , Jimin!”

_What?_

“Jimin?”

“Y-Yeah?” he stuttered quietly, feet glued to the sidewalk, eyes wide.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know somewhere safe to go?”

Jimin finally registered the danger of the situation and started down the sidewalk to one of the access ports. “Y-Yeah, I can do that.”

“Let me know when you get to safety,” she said. “I gotta go.”

“Wait!” he gasped, but Jisu had already hung up.

Jimin could feel the hot tears pricking his eyes, but he swallowed down the feeling and focused on finding the nearest safehouse. Years ago, before XTC even existed, the government created bomb shelters underground in case of an emergency. They were located right between Number and XTC’s territory, now, but Jimin had no other choice. If he could get into one of those, he would be safe.

He burst into the convenience store fifteen minutes later, ignoring the startled cashier as he made his way to the break room and pushed open the back door that led him to XTC’s port. The heavy door opened with a soft click when he typed in the password, and Jimin pulled a Glock from his bag before heading down the metal steps. His footsteps echoed off the walls, and Jimin swallowed hard.

He made it all the way to the end of the steps without anyone noticing, and Jimin took the left hallway that led him to the sewers. He moved swiftly, making it to the last door in record time. He typed in another passcode, and the door swung open.

Jimin was hit with the repulsive stench of toxic waste, and he could barely keep from gagging as he entered the sewers, closing the metal door after him. He was thankful for the small walkway that kept him out of the sewage, but pretty soon the thing had crumbled away and Jimin was forced to wade through the waste. He boots made loud squelching sounds as he walked, making him cringe.

It took him a while to find the right door, but soon he stumbled across one that had the words ‘safety shelter 1A’ written on it, and he grabbed the handle. The door was stuck and it took a few tries before he pried it opened and slipped inside.

He pulled the door closed quickly and breathed out a sigh of relief. _I'm safe, for now_ , he thought.

Remembering his promise to Jisu, he pulled out his phone and called her.

“Hello?” she answered breathlessly. “Jimin?”

“I'm safe,” he confirmed, throwing his duffle bag onto the floor and sinking against the wall. It was dark, the only thing he could see was his phone screen.

“Good,” she breathed, relief flooding into her voice.

“What’s going on, Noona?” he asked, voice cracking.

“I don't know, Jiminie,” she said honestly. “I'm trying to figure it out right now. Mr. Kim was shot this morning and all of the sudden everyone is saying it was you.”

Jimin’s chin trembled. _Don't cry_. “I-Is he dead?”

“Mr. Kim? I have no idea.”

“Who’s in control right now? Is there someone that takes his place when he’s unconscious?”

“Yeah, that bitch Kim Seokjin. The guy who knocked me out on accident.”

Jimin swallowed. He had told Jisu that Jin attacked them because he thought they worked for numbers. She believed him.

“Oh.”

 _Jin_. Jin could fix this.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she promised. “I’ll get you out.”

“O-Okay.”

“Shit- I need to go,” she mumbled quickly. “I’ll call you later. Stay safe, Jiminie.”

The call ended, and Jimin toppled over the edge. Tears spilled out of his eyes and formed rivers down his face. His breathing was becoming erratic, choking in between each hurried gasp as he curled into a ball.

 _S-Shit_.

 

Jimin tried to call Kim Seokjin twenty-three times. None of them were answered. Jimin bit his fist to resist the urge to fling his phone across the room.

“Fuck!” he screamed, pulling at his silver hair.

_What am I supposed to do?_

Jimin couldn't do this anymore. He was done. The will to fight back drained out of him and he slumped against the ground in defeat. He would wait, just wait until Jisu told him it was safe for him to come out. There was nothing else he could possibly do.

Jimin drifted asleep, and only awoke when he heard his phone ringing. “Shit,” he cursed, fumbling to find his phone in the dark. “Hello?”

“Jimin?” Yoongi’s voice was like an electric shock, and Jimin had to bite his lip to keep from crying again.

“H-Hey.”

“You okay? You don't sound so good.”

Jimin coughed, a useless attempt to fix his cracked voice. “I'm… fine.”

He was not fine. He was sitting in the dark in some old bomb shelter in the sewers with the whole mafia out for his blood. He was being hunted as they spoke, and if he was being honest with himself, he would probably be dead in a matter of days. If everyone thought he killed Mr. Kim, _the mafia boss_ , there was no possible way he could escape. XTC was too big, there were too many loyal people. Nobody would believe him once the rumor had spread. It was useless. He was a living corpse at this point.

He was going to _die_.

The thought hit him like a train, starting in his toes and zinging up to his scalp. He was doing to die and there was no way he could get out of it. He had the biggest mafia in Korea after him, _everyone_ was fucking against him-

“Jimin?” Yoongi’s voice rang out in the silent room, laced with worry. “You still there?”

A tear slipped down his cheek. “Yeah, sorry, I got distracted. Did you say something?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me tonight?” His voice was nothing but concern at this point. “I mean- only if you want to.”

“I…” Jimin swallowed hard. “I can't.”

Yoongi must have heard the regret in his voice because he quickly said, “That’s okay, we can do it another time.”

“ _No_ ,” Jimin whispered, the tears falling hard now. “I can't do it another time.”

Silence.

“...J-Jimin?”

It felt as if he was being ripped into a thousand pieces. Yoongi’s voice was so fucking _scared_ , Jimin had never heard anything so  _pitiful_ and _confused._

“I'm sorry, hyung.”

“Jimin? Baby, what’s wrong?” Yoongi stuttered quickly.

He choked out a sob. “I-I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.”

“W-Wait-”

 _Click_.

Jimin dropped his phone and it landed with a loud clatter on the concrete floor.

 

-

 

“W-Wait, Jimin,” Yoongi stalled, but the call had already ended.

_What?_

Yoongi’s brain went fuzzy, overtaken by hot white fear. He fumbled with his phone and called the number back, only to be met with a robotic voice. _“We're sorry! You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”_

_What's going on? Things were fine this morning._

Yoongi could feel hot tears threatening to spill over, but he shook his head and scrolled through his contacts with a shaking finger. He clicked Taehyung’s name and tapped his foot impatiently while the phone rang. Taehyung had never come into work that day.

No answer.

He decided to leave a voicemail. “Taehyung, do you know where Jimin is? I...I think there’s something wrong.” He didn't know what else to say, so he clicked end.

There was something wrong. Jimin was crying; he could hear it during the phone call. He sounded _scared_. He sounded… _hopeless_.

_Was I just... dumped?_

Jimin wouldn't do that, would he? Things were going great… they were getting along and-

“W-What?” he whispered to himself.

 _No. No, this isn't happening_.

Yoongi packed up his stuff and shut the lights off as he headed out of the parlor, locking the door behind him and walking to the subway station. He took the train to the city’s center and got off at the stop nearest to Jimin’s apartment.

 _Please be home_.

He walked down the sidewalk and soon stood at the doors of the apartment building. He took a shaky breath and pushed through, heading up to the receptionist’s desk where the same lady still stood, a smile plastered onto her face.

“I’m here to see Park Jimin.”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Park isn't taking any visitors at the moment,” she said in a chipper voice.

“What do you mean he’s not taking visitors?” he demanded.

“He requested me not to let anyone into his apartment, sir,” she answered calmly.

“I…” Yoongi shook his head as his words fizzled. “Nevermind. Sorry for disrupting.”

“Have a nice evening, sir.”

Yoongi turned and walked away.

 

“Are you okay?”

Yoongi shrugged, leading Namjoon into the bar. “Not really.”

“What happened, hyung?”

After visiting Jimin’s apartment and coming away with nothing more than a bruised ego, Yoongi wandered around Seoul until the sun set. That's when he called Namjoon and asked if he wanted to go out for drinks. Yoongi had never been to this bar in particular, but it was the first one they had stumbled over and it looked decent so they decided to give it a try.

“It's a long story,” he shrugged, sitting next to Namjoon at the bar.

“I think we have time.”

Yoongi couldn't argue with that. After he and Namjoon ordered their drinks the older finally sighed and spilled the story. About how Jimin called him out of the blue, crying, and told him how he couldn't date Yoongi anymore. About how fucking  _heartbroken_ he sounded. How he went to Jimin’s apartment and how the woman stopped Yoongi from seeing him.

“It's the weirdest thing, Joon. I was at Jimin’s apartment this morning and everything was _fine_.”

Namjoon was stunned into silence, eyes wide and confused. “I… I-”

“I just don't get it,” Yoongi whispered, voice cracking.

“S-Shit, Yoongi,” the younger breathed.

“No warning. Nothing.”

“Did he say  _why_ he did it?” Namjoon asked carefully.

“No.”

Namjoon shook his head. “Damn.”

“I just-” Yoongi started, but he felt himself starting to get overwhelmed. Was he not good enough for Jimin? Was he taking things _too_ slow? Was he too boring and emotionally ruined for Seoul’s greatest sniper? Why did Jimin leave him?

He had finally opened up to someone, allowed another human to tear out his heart and throw it away just like Taemin had done. _Why?_ What did Jimin gain from it?

_This is why I shouldn't let people-_

“Jin?”

Namjoon’s alarmed voice pulled Yoongi from his thoughts. The younger was staring into a dark hallway at the end of the bar, evidently having seen someone. The more Yoongi’s eyes adjusted, the more he could make out the  _multiple_ figures standing at a door.

And two of them looked fucking familiar.

“Taehyung?” Yoongi swore he could see his honey-brown hair and silver piercings.

Namjoon and Yoongi glanced at each other.

“Jin hyung told me he was going to be out of town today,” he said slowly. “A work emergency.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”

They both stood up at the same time, abandoning their drinks and heading to the dark hallway. They were late; the three figures had already opened the door and disappeared inside, but Namjoon managed to grab the handle before it swung shut.

They both looked at each other again before slowly opening it and following inside.

It was dark, but Yoongi could see Taehyung’s nervous eyes. He could see a thin guy next to him, greasy hair reaching his shoulders. He could see defense flooding every corner of the man’s body as he squared his shoulders.

It was dark, but Yoongi could see Jin’s terrified face and the barrel of a gun pointed at Namjoon.


	23. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧  
> Summer is always crazy, so thank you for dealing with my spontaneous updates <3
> 
> ALSO THIS CHAPTER IS HELLA LIT SO HOLD ONTO UR ASSES

Sometimes Yoongi found himself in a dreamy haze. Riding the line between fiction and reality. He liked it, too, to float in some dark abyss with no care for the future or no regret for the past. But in those times, he was either high or so fucking depressed it was almost blissful. But _This_? This was different. Because he  _wasn't_ high or depressed, he was just scared shitless. His brain seemed to have turned to stone and his eyes widened as the white-hot fear overtook him. He tried hard to convince himself it was a dream, but it was no use.

Jin had his gun pointed straight at Namjoon’s head and the silence was almost deafening. Everyone had frozen on the spot and not even a single breath was uttered. Yoongi watched as realization sunk into Jin’s terrified eyes, and the gun faltered.

“Hyung,” Yoongi said slowly, finally snapping out of his stupor and daring to break the silence. “Put the gun down.”

No one moved.

“J-Jin?” It was Namjoon, eyes wide with fear and a visible sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Jin dropped the gun and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Namjoon flinched.

This isn't happening, Yoongi thought. Jin can't be the one with a gun. Jimin, Taehyung, and now his hyung?

“Who are you?” barked the man next to Taehyung. His eyes were alight with rage and Yoongi took a step back. Before he could do anything else, the guy was whipping his own gun out.

“Hyeok-ssi, stop,” growled Taehyung.

Hyeok? That sounds familiar… Hasn't Jimin talked about him before? Isn't that the guy Jimin’s trying to catch?

Shit.

“Who the fuck are you!” demanded the man. Taehyung put a hand on his shoulder and gripped hard, making the man flinch.

“T-They’re with us, it's okay,” Jin said, not sounding too sure of himself.

Hyeok shot him a skeptical look, clicking the safety on his gun off.

“Hyeok,” Jin warned voice suddenly hard. “Gun away. Now.”

Namjoon visibly flinched at his boyfriend’s stiff tone, but Yoongi only glanced at him before returning his gaze to Jin and swallowing hard. Someone might as well have shoved cotton balls down his throat, he couldn't do anything but gape widely.  _Maybe this was a mistake._

Yoongi briefly thought back to his and Namjoon’s beers, probably still sitting at the bar counter sweating off condensation. If Namjoon hadn't seen Jin, maybe they would still be at the counter, Yoongi moping about Jimin while he tried to drink off the pain. But Namjoon  _did_ see Jin, and now nobody- including Jin himself- had any idea of what to do, if the look in the oldest man’s eyes was anything to go by. Jin looked scared, and that was something completely unfamiliar to Yoongi. Jin, although nurturing in nature, was tough, and not a lot of things got to him. He was only strong for his dongsaengs, but now he was being stripped raw right in front of the love of his life, and the terrified look in his eyes had a shiver running down Yoongi’s spine.

This was all wrong, this wasn't real.

“W-What’s going on?” Namjoon’s voice rang out in the dead silent corridor, dragging Yoongi out of his thoughts. Even in the dark, he could see Jin swallow hard and Taehyung tug the sleeves of his shirt uncomfortably.

“Taehyung?” Yoongi crossed his arms and bit his bottom lip, trying to look brave. He wasn't so sure it was working. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” the younger said hesitantly.

“Did you get my message?”

Taehyung sniffed and ruffled his hair. “Uhm, yeah.”

“What’s going on?”

Jin shot a sharp glare at the honey-haired man, and the other guy- apparently Hyeok- nailed the younger in the ribs.“H-He already knows,” Taehyung confessed. “Yoongi hyung knows about XTC.”

Jin’s eyes were off of Taehyung in an instant and eyeing Yoongi up and down. “What?”

“Why exactly is that, you dumb bitch?” the long-haired man cut in, shoving Taehyung roughly by the chest. “You told him? Might as well march into the police department and tell them all we’re fucking _mafiosos_ -”

“I didn't tell him!” Taehyung snapped, anger seeping into his voice as he shoved the guy back. “Jimin did! It was fucking _inevitable_ , Hyeok!”  
Yoongi had never seen Taehyung _angry_. Sad, sometimes, yeah, but never angry. He was giving off such a different vibe from the little college student that Yoongi took a few steps back. He had to remind himself Taehyung  _was_ XTC’s most valuable fighter, but also someone who lost control too easily.

This was going downhill too fast, and he could barely keep up.

“Park Jimin? The sniper?” Hyeok spat. “Why are we even trying to save such a dumbass-”

“Save?” Namjoon asked, eyes wide and glassy,

_Save?_

“He’s not dumb!” Taehyung yelled. “What the fuck do you know?”

“Guys!” Jin shouted, silencing everyone. “We don't have time for this! We need to get underground right now before my father becomes conscious.”

“Can you please tell us what the fuck is going on, Jin?” Yoongi hissed, honorifics forgotten.

“Yoongi, calm down,” Jin said, trying to diffuse the situation quickly, efforts obviously in vain as Yoongi shook his head violently and slammed a fist on the door they had just entered.

“No!” he barked. “Namjoon and I deserve to know what’s going on!”

Silence.

“He’s right, hyung,” Taehyung spoke up. “Just tell them.”

Jin sighed, rubbing his head. “We don't have time, guys. My father is bound to wake up within a day and I need to carry out this plan.”

Namjoon, who had remained silent this whole time, grabbed Yoongi’s wrist and tugged him towards the door.

“W-What are you doing, Namjoon?” Yoongi hissed, wrenching his wrist away.

“I-I… We need to go.” His voice was scared and unsure, and Yoongi swore he could see Jin’s soul shatter hearing his boyfriend.

“Joonie, baby-” Jin whispered, reaching out to touch the younger’s shoulder.

Namjoon reacted almost instantly, mouth curling into an animalistic snarl as he jerked out of the touch. “Don't call me that! Common, Yoongi hyung, let’s go.”

“Namjoon-ssi, you need to calm down,” Taehyung said slowly. “We won't hurt you.”

“Yeah right,” he barked.

Jin flinched. “Baby, why don't we go to the bar and have a drink. I’ll explain all of this soon, promise.”

Namjoon shot a skeptical look at Jin, then one back at Yoongi. “Hyung?”

“Go,” Yoongi nodded, although he wasn't so sure of Jin himself. How could someone who looked so innocent end up to be in a mafia? _Just like Jimin_ , he thought.

“Fine, let's go,” Namjoon said, a slight growl to his tone. “But put one fucking hand on me and I'm calling the cops.”

Jin’s chin trembled, but he only nodded and followed Namjoon to the door before turning back to Taehyung and saying, “I’ll meet you underground, have Yoongi help you out. Remember, while I'm not here you need to follow Hyeok.”

“Kay.”

When the door finally closed again, Yoongi turned to Taehyung. “Is Jin safe? Should I have left Namjoon with him?”

“Jin’s fine,” he muttered. “They’re boyfriends, after all. Did you know Jin was apart of XTC?”

“No fucking idea,” Yoongi said, carding a shaking hand through his hair. “He didn't seem like the type to… well, you know.”  
“I didn't know either, not until this morning.” Taehyung suddenly reached out for Yoongi and took him into a hug, burying his head in the older’s neck.

Yoongi stiffened. “T-Tae-”

“I'm sorry, hyung. I didn't mean for you to be involved in this shit.”

“Taehyung.” It was Hyeok, standing a little bit behind the youngest with a frown on his face. “We need to get going.”

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled, pulling back. “Hyeok-ssi, this is Yoongi hyung. My- boss?”

Hyeok, much to Yoongi’s surprise, stuck a gloved hand out and shook his head. “You’re not apart of the mafia, are you?” It was posed as a statement more than a question.

“No,” Yoongi shook his head and gripped the man’s hand.

“Jimin is his boyfriend,” Taehyung said. “He knows a lot about XTC.”

Yoongi felt a pang in his chest.  _He's not my boyfriend anymore._

“Oh. About Jimin…”

Yoongi frowned. “What?”

Taehyung coughed and averted his eyes.

“The whole mafia is out to kill him,” Hyeok said simply.

Yoongi’s draw dropped. “H-Huh?”

“There’s not a lot of time to explain,” the man said, turning on his heel and heading down the stairs. “Follow me and I’ll explain.”

“Hyeok-ssi, maybe we should leave Yoongi here, he doesn't have a gun and doesn't know how to fight-” Taehyung started.

“I want to come with you,” Yoongi said, following Hyeok down the stairs. “I need to help Jimin.”

“Hyung-”

“I know how to shoot a gun,” Yoongi said, whirling around on the stairs and looking Taehyung dead in the eyes. “I haven't shot one since I was a teenager, but I know the basics. Got an extra one?”

Taehyung falter. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I have one.” He rummaged around inside of his backpack and pulled out a Glock, making sure the clip was filled before tossing it to Yoongi, who caught it with shaking hands. It had been a while since he shot a gun. The last- the only time, actually- was when Ami got in a street fight and some bastard pulled a gun on his brother. Yoongi and Minho disarmed him and he shot the guy in the foot. That was the only time he had ever used a gun, and that was close distance. This… this was very different, and Yoongi couldn't stop the shaking in his hands and the sheen of sweat that settled on his skin.

The feeling was back- the feeling of floating between dream and reality. His eyes couldn't focus on a single thing, but yet every sense was heightened. He could hear Taehyung’s steady breathing as they marched down the stairs and the buckle of Hyeok’s backpack hitting his black jacket.

“I,” Hyeok started, keeping a steady pace down the steps, “Shot Mr. Kim, the head of XTC.”

Yoongi almost fell down the steps, but he managed to fix his footing at the last minute. “ _What?_ You  _shot_ him?”

“Yes, it was Jin’s idea.”

“Back up, idiot!” Taehyung said, exasperated.

“What the hell?” Yoongi muttered.  _This is a dream._

“Jin is the heir of the mafia, Mr. Kim’s son,” Taehyung supplied.

“What the _fuck_ -”

“Hold on.” He held up a hand to silence Yoongi. “Let me finish. Jin isn't actually apart of the mafia, neither is Hyeok. Jin is to take over when his father dies.”

“So why did he kill his own father?”

“He didn't kill him,” Taehyung reminded him. “Hyeok shot him.” When Yoongi tossed him an unimpressed glare, the younger coughed and continued. “Nobody likes the mafia, and Jin would rather die than become the new leader. So, he decided the only way to avoid that was to bring the whole mafia down. We’re making a deal with the police, giving up the mafia if they agree to take it down for us and let us escape with no charges."

“I don't get it,” Yoongi said, a drop of sweat trickling down his temple.

“Hyeok-ssi and I are going to the police while Jin hyung is temporarily in charge. If Mr. Kim was in charge while the cops infiltrated the mafia he would obviously send fighters to defend us, but since he’s been shot, Jin can tell our fighters to stand back while the cops do their thing. We just need solid evidence to show the police.”

“And money,” Hyeok added.

“Money?” Yoongi questioned.

They stopped at the next door and Hyeok turned to look at him. “XTC pays the government every month to keep off our turf and stay out of our affairs. They benefit from our mafia- we pay them and protect them from other gangs while our mafia can stay up and running. It's fucked up, but it's how the government works. If we give them enough incentive to look into XTC, we may finally have a way to bring it down.”

“S-Shit, this is like a movie,” Yoongi cursed, hands still shaking as he gripped the gun.

“Tell me about it,” the long-haired man chuckled.

“So what are we doing now?”

“Taehyung is going to get Jimin, and you’re coming with me. We need to get into XTC’s database and then we’ll meet Taehyung and Jimin there-”

“Can't I go with Taehyung?” Yoongi cut him off.

“No, hyung, it's too dangerous. The whole mafia is after Jimin, I can't have you near him right now.”

Yoongi’s heart seemed to shatter, but he nodded anyway. He didn't want to be a nuisance.

“Even going with Hyeok-ssi is too dangerous. Maybe you should stay here and wait for us-”

“No, I want to help,” Yoongi said with resolve.  _Shit, what am I thinking? I'm not some superhero, I'm going to die._

“Hyung-”

“I'm serious.” His fingers curled around the gun’s handle.

“Fine,” Taehyung sighed, throwing his hands up. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Duh,” Yoongi said, holding out a fist for Taehyung to bump. The younger grinned and gave a little punch to his knuckles.

“Good luck, guys,” he said, swinging his assault rifle onto his shoulder and tugging a pair of gloves on.

“Don't lose control, kid,” Hyeok said. Taehyung nodded and gave one last wave before trudging down the opposite hallway, disappearing into the dark.

“Is he okay by himself?” Yoongi asked quietly.

“He’ll be fine, even if he does go a little wild. Because right now, everyone is against us, and it won't matter who he shoots.”

Yoongi cringed. He had never thought about it like that.

“Alright, let's go.” Hyeok typed a code into the security pad and the door clicked open. “Stay behind me unless you want to get shot. They’ll be guards crawling around everywhere.”

Yoongi swallowed and followed after him. His black hair stuck to his forehead and his legs felt like noodles as he walked through the door and down a dim hallway. It smelled like drugs and something that could only be described as strangely strong body odor.

Hyeok stuck an arm out to stop Yoongi. They both fell silent, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye Hyeok suddenly had his AS Val pointed straight ahead, obviously having heard something Yoongi didn't.

“H-Hey!” someone shouted. “Who are you! State your name!”

Yoongi squinted his eyes to get a better look, but before he had a chance to spot them Hyeok had pulled the trigger and a loud bang resonated through the air. Yoongi could hear the person make a horrible gagging sound and then drop to the ground. A shiver wracked his body and he had to keep from gagging himself.

_Keep it together, Yoongi._

“We’re clear,” Hyeok muttered, continuing down the hallway. Yoongi followed with quaking legs. Soon they arrived at a door labeled ‘Security Lab 2b’ and Hyeok put his ear to the metal entrance while Yoongi glanced around nervously.

_Is that- Is that someone?_

“Hyeok,” Yoongi whispered in a low voice. “I think there’s-”

 _BANG_.

“Shit!” Hyeok shouted, turning around and fumbling to get a hold on his gun.

The figure had  _shot_ at them, and now they were stalking towards the door, gun pointed straight at Hyeok. Closer and closer and closer-

 _BANG_.

For a second Yoongi thought the figure had shot at them again, but when the person fell to the ground with a muffled thump he realized he had his own gun pointed where the figure had been standing. _His gun_.

_What? I...I shot them?_

“Nice going,” Hyeok grinned, and Yoongi swallowed hard, vision momentarily going white. “There’s a lot of guards in here so be careful. I’ll try to get rid of  
them. Ready?”

Yoongi was frozen. He could only watch as Hyeok typed in the password on the keypad and bring his gun to his chest before throwing the door open. Yoongi sank against the wall, gun falling to the floor with a clatter as he listened to Hyeok emptying clip after clip, the sound of gunshots ringing in his ears and splitting his mind open.

Three minutes later Hyeok poked his head out of the door and shot a scrutinizing glare at Yoongi. “Thanks for the help, bastard. Common, get off the damn floor, I'm sure other guards heard the gunshots.”

Yoongi had enough of a mind to peel himself off the floor, pick up his gun, and shuffle in after Hyeok, flinching when the man slammed the door behind him and bolted it shut. The room was pretty large, monitors and computers lining the walls. Yoongi recognized angles of the bar he and Namjoon had just been in on multiple screens and shivered. When he looked closely at one of the monitors he could actually see Jin and Namjoon themselves in a booth. The was blood on that monitor, and when he looked down he saw a bloody heap lying on the ground. Now that he glanced around the room, he realized there was blood on  _most_ of the screens. Yoongi had to bite his lip so he didn't throw up.

When he looked over at Hyeok he found the man typing at a larger computer against the back wall. Yoongi ventured closer, stepping over dead bodies and almost slipping multiple times on pools of blood. He glanced over the man’s shoulder and frowned. To him, it looked like a bunch of ones and zeros, but to the police, it looked like solid evidence.

“Anything I can do?” Yoongi asked numbly, still not over the fact that he SHOT someone. He had to remind himself that if he didn't act they would probably both be dead and the mafia would still be running.  _Right, it was for the good of things._

“Not much. Unless you know how to hack into XTC’s database,” Hyeok snorted, oblivious to Yoongi’s remorseful conscious. He dug around in his pocket and took out a USB, plugging it into the computer and leaning back in his seat. “There’s not much I can do, either, not until Jisu comes.”

“Jisu?”

Hyeok shrugged. “I don't really know her, but Taehyung said she’s a reliable hacker. She’s coming soon, according to the kid.”

“Oh.” Yoongi’s brain couldn't keep up with what was happening. It all seemed to be going by so quickly as if he was watching the whole thing from a speeding car window. Just this morning he was with Jimin watching TV, and after that, he went into work. It had been a completely normal day, up until Jimin called him.

Jimin.

The boy who wasn't his anymore. The beautiful sniper who completely cut things off.  _Will he even be happy to see me?_

There was a loud knock that pulled Yoongi from his thoughts. He could hear a woman’s voice travel through the door. “Hello? Who bolted the door? How am I supposed to get in?”

“That must be Jisu,” Hyeok chuckled, starting to roll his chair to the door but having to stop when he hit too many dead bodies. “Who is it?” he called, pressing his ear to the door.

“Jisu. Taehyung said that-”

“Come on in,” Hyeok cut her off and unbolted the door, and a small woman with long dark hair fell through. Her eyes widened when she spotted all of the dead bodies.

“What the hell?”

“Hello. Did Taehyung tell you what this was about?”

She looked at Hyeok with slight concern. “...Yes.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah, we’re taking the mafia down, huh?”

Hyeok smiled and carded a hand through his greasy hair. “I didn't think you would be on board.”

“Are you kidding me?” she snorted, following him to the computer where Yoongi stood, only nodding in his direction before sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “If I can get out of XTC without going to jail fifty years then sign me the hell up. Now show me what you need.”

Yoongi wasn't going to admit that he was feeling a little jealous and worthless watching the two geniuses work, but, objectively, as he stood to the side with his arms crossed, he was definitely a bit jealous. Because they were helping take down a mafia and Yoongi couldn't do anything but watch it all go down. The only thing he did was shoot someone, and that didn't feel gratifying in the least. Actually, it made him feel like shit, and Yoongi had the sudden urge to go back outside and see if the person was dead or just hurt. Maybe he had missed and shot him in the leg or something… right? Yoongi didn't have enough experience in shooting to hit them right in a vital area. Right? He didn't even  _remember_ lifting the gun, or clicking the safety off, or pulling the trigger. It's almost as if he didn't do it at all.

Yoongi was yanked from his depressing thoughts when a phone rang. It must have been Jisu’s, because she took her gaze off of the computer to dig around in her pocket, putting the device on speakerphone when she answered. “Taehyung?”

“Noona,” came the boy’s almost  _cheerful_ voice, and Yoongi’s eyebrows knit in confusion. Why the hell would the kid be happy in such a situation? “I have Jimin but I need you to- _shit_ -” Yoongi could hear the steady sound of gunfire and swallowed hard, but then the unmistakable pitch of Taehyung  _laughing_ arose and his voice came back on the line, “Sorry, can one of you open the door? We’re almost there, but the- dammit!- guards are on our-” there was a grunt and more gunfire- “Backs. ” His voice faded in the slightest, but he could make out Taehyung’s tone as he warned, “Jimin! Watch your left!”

Hyeok shared a confused look with Jisu but went to the door after Taehyung hung up. “That kid is off his rocker,” he murmured before unbolting the door and keeping one ready hand on the door handle, waiting for the distinct sound of bullets to come closer. “You two may want to take cover.” Yoongi swallowed and ducked under the desk with Jisu, who had her eyes glued to the door in apprehension. Hyeok nodded absently when he heard the faint sounds of gunfire and screams, then Taehyung’s obnoxiously loud voice could be heard.

“Okay!” the kid yelled, voice a lot closer than Yoongi was expecting, and then there was frantic banging at the door. “Open the door!” Hyeok fumbled with his gun before grabbing the handle and yanking it open. “Shit!” Jimin and Taehyung fell through and ducked behind the door frame, and Yoongi couldn't explain the relief he felt seeing the silver-haired boy alive. He sagged against the desk and heard Jisu breathe out a thankful sigh.

Yoongi watched as Jimin hit the floor on his stomach, eyes peeking through his gun’s vision as he waited behind the door for more guards to come. Taehyung stood above him, the barrel of his M16 halfway outside. But as they waited, it wasn't quiet by any means. Jimin was yelling at Taehyung, a string of curses that had Taehyung flinching and ducking his head. Yoongi could barely make out what the silver-haired man was shouting about, but he did hear his name quite a few times, and his brows furrowed.

When there were more shouts, this time from outside, Jimin went quiet and clicked the safety of his gun off, and Taehyung grinned as he raised his own to his shoulder. Before Yoongi knew it, the duo was emptying clip after clip, eyes focused and hard. He could hear screams from outside and cringed as the sound of bodies hitting the ground became closer. It only reminded him of what he had done earlier.

“Alright, that's enough!” Jimin yelled, rolling away from the door as Taehyung stepped back, giving Hyeok enough room to slam and bolt the door. The room went quiet, but it only lasted seconds before Jimin was dropping his gun on the floor and turning to Taehyung with an accusing finger pointed straight at the piercer’s chest.

“What the hell, Taehyung?” he shouted, eyes livid. “What the actual  _fuck_ were you thinking?” Yoongi and Jisu exchanged worried glances under the desk. Maybe he should come out- “He could have gotten _hurt_ , Taehyung! And then what? You want Yoongi to die?”

“Jimin?” Jisu’s voice next to him was like a foghorn in the night, and Yoongi flinched.

Jimin whipped around, eyes wide. “Noona?”

Jisu and Yoongi exchanged one more glance before coming out from under the desk. His knees creaked when he stood up, back feeling stiff from ducking under the desk for so long.

“Hyung!” Jimin gasped, eyes filling with tears as he let out a choked sob.

“Uh, hey Jimin,” Yoongi said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to SexyBack when I wrote this


	24. Almost Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pops up* hey, guess who decided to wait 2 weeks to update again??
> 
> Sorry lovies, life has been kicking my BUTT lol! School and sports practice are starting so im crazy stressed but I'll try to update regularly <3
> 
> Oh, and this is prob my favorite chapter- hope you enjoy!

“Hey?” Jimin’s voice was a mere hiss as his eyes filled with tears. “ _Hey_?”

Yoongi exchanged a worried glance with Taehyung and swallowed hard. What was he supposed to say? There was too  _much_ to say to do it in three minutes.  
“Why don't you two help me?” Jisu suggested after a moment, motioning to Hyeok and Taehyung. “Leave those two to talk.”

Hyeok shrugged and nodded, grabbing a worried Taehyung by the collar and dragging him to the computer where Jisu stood. They formed a huddle around the monitor, leaving Yoongi and Jimin uncomfortably excluded.

“Explain,” Jimin said lowly. “Now.”

Yoongi shivered but squared his shoulders and looked the younger straight in the eyes. “Me? Why didn't you tell me Jin hyung was the heir to the fucking mafia? Why didn't you tell me you were in danger? Why did you dump me for no reason? I've been in the dark the whole damn time, Jimin, and you think I'm the one who needs to explain myself? I've been nothing but patient with you, I think it's your turn to do the same.”

Jimin scoffed and crossed his arms. “You don't think I've been patient? That's ALL I've been. You've always been so fucking closed off and secretive about _everything_ , but I promised myself I would be patient and wait for when you were ready.”

“Now you’re just changing the subject,” Yoongi hissed.

“Look,” he sneered, jabbing a finger a Yoongi’s chest. “All I've been doing is protecting you, and all  _you_ can do is give me shit for it. I don't even know why you’re down here, but it was a really dumb decision on your part.”

Yoongi snapped. “It was a dumb decision, huh? You think it's dumb that I want to protect you? I hear that the entire mafia is after you and expect me  _not_ to do anything about it? Now you’re just being ignorant, Jimin.”

“Me? Ignorant?” he barked, beautiful brown eyes alight. “ _I'm_ not the one who marches underground without any defenses while the whole mafia is on the brink of falling! Do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

Jimin’s words were just gasoline on the fire, and Yoongi barked out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, I do. Actually, one of those guards out there was killed by yours fucking truly.”

There was a long silence, filled only by the hollow sound of Jisu’s nails hitting the keyboard. Yoongi glanced over to the monitor where she was working to catch a glimpse of what looked like pictures of body parts and word documents being downloaded onto the flash drive. His head whipped back, though, when he heard a small sniffle. It was Jimin, cheeks pale and bottom lip trembling, eyes so glassy it looked like they were about to spill over any minute.

Yoongi didn't know what to do. Jimin broke up with him; was he allowed to offer a comforting hug or something? Maybe hold his hand? Before he could ponder further, the younger started muttering under his breath.

“Fuck, shit, oh my- oh my _gosh_.” Jimin ran a shaky hand through his platinum hair as Yoongi bit his lip and cocked his head.

_What should I do?_

“I'm sorry, hyung, I knew this was a bad idea,” he sobbed, snapping Yoongi to attention. “I-I didn't want you to get wrapped up in t-this. I-I couldn't even  _protect_ you, now you kuh- _killed_ someone because of  _me_ and-” Jimin’s sobs turned into alarmingly unsteady breaths and Yoongi only had time to register that  _oh, he's having a panic attack,_ when the boy in thought sunk to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees, curling himself into a ball.

Yoongi caught Taehyung’s concerned eyes, and he could tell the piercer was about to intervene and help his best friend when Jisu harshly grabbed his neck and jerked his head back to the monitor, whispering something into his ear. Taehyung only looked back for a moment after Jisu had released her claw-like grip on his neck and shot a look from him to Jimin and mouthed the words ‘man up’.

Yoongi opened his mouth in defense, but apparently, they wanted him to fix Jimin all by himself when Jimin was the one to dump _him_ , not the other way around. He swallowed, steeled himself, and crouched next to the crying boy. He placed a hesitant hand on his shaking back and rubbed slowly, slightly massaging his shoulders. “Hey, Jiminie, it's okay,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

Jimin took a while to catch his breath, but when he finally did he said, “N-No, this is my fault. You  _shot_ someone, Yoongi.”

He swallowed again and willed the tears stinging his eyes not to fall. They didn't need  _two_ grown men crying right now. “I know, but if I hadn't, he would have shot me first. This isn't your fault, I wanted to help you. It's okay, baby-” Oops. The pet name slipped out too freely, and Yoongi cringed and jerked his hand away from the younger’s back. “Sorry,” he muttered.

There was a stunned silence and Yoongi was just waiting for Jimin to get mad and start yelling at him, but it never came. Instead, the younger looked up at him with teary eyes, and the next moment he was sobbing again. Yoongi fumbled for some way to stop the human faucet that was Jimin, but he wasn't about to touch him again; he really couldn't do anything- _Oh my word what do I do- Please God-_

“I missed yuh-you so much,” Jimin cried, and Yoongi didn't have to debate the next move anymore because the younger had already latched his arms around Yoongi’s neck and was sniffing loudly. At this point, Yoongi didn't even care that Jimin was using him as a human tissue, the only thing that mattered was that the beautiful boy was in his arms. “I-I didn't mean to leave you like- like that, I was just so  _scared_ and I duh-didn't want you to get  _hurt_ , and I'm going to _die_ -” Jimin paused, eyes widening. “I'm gonna _die_!”

This time Taehyung intervened. “You aren't going to die, get that thought out of your head.”

“B-But the whole mafia is after me, Tae!”

“We have a solid plan, dude, trust me,” he said, shooting his friend an evil grin that even had Yoongi’s blood turning cold. “Jin just texted me, he’s coming down right away, then taking us to the lab.”

“The lab?” Jimin and Yoongi questioned in unison. He briefly wondered how Namjoon took the news, but that was pushed to the back of his mind when he realized Jimin was HIS again, and he hadn't been brutally dumped by the younger after all.

Taehyung smirked. “I think you’re gonna like this part, Jiminie.”

Before either of them could question further, Jisu gave a little shout of victory and practically ripped the USB out of the computer, holding the little thing up triumphantly. “Here we go, fellas. Every photo of every organ that’s been trafficked under XTC’s roof, along with proof of the pornography hub.”

“Atta girl,” Taehyung whistled, earning a smack to the head.

All of them jumped when there was a loud bang, heads snapping to look at the door with wide eyes. There was another sound, like someone was _kicking the door_ \- suddenly the heavy metal entrance flew open and they all held their breath, awaiting the worst, while Hyeok and Taehyung swung their guns to the front of their bodies. Jin’s broad figure appeared in the doorway, and all of them let out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, the door was blocked.” The oldest eyed the floor. “By a dead body, apparently.”

Yoongi almost wanted to laugh at the situation. He still didn't believe his sweet hyung was the heir to a _mafia_.

“Got the flash drive?” Jin questioned.

Jisu nodded and thumbed the plastic USB. “Everything’s on here.”

“Awesome,” he grinned, sweeping his gaze around the room, eyes falling to meet Yoongi’s. He quirked a brow as he looked to Jimin who was still draped over his body, not budging even under their hyung’s eyes.

Yoongi swallowed hard.  _This side of hyung is really different._

“Alright, let's bounce,” Jin said, clapping his hands once. “We’re gonna stop by the lab and get something real quick, then we can head to the station.”

Nobody had any objections, obviously, so they all packed up and headed out. Jimin tugged on Yoongi’s sleeve before they stepped out. “Yoongi hyung?”

Yoongi looked into those beautiful brown eyes and shivered. “Yeah?”

Jimin didn't answer, just pressed his lips to Yoongi’s. Heat pooled in the older’s stomach as he sighed into the soft kiss, resting his hand on Jimin’s waist. It felt like home- comfort- even in the midst of that shit show. Too soon, it was over, and Jimin was pulling away with a content sound. “Let me protect you, okay?”

“Jimin-”

“I don't want any more blood on your hands,” he said, voice firm.

Yoongi decided it would be best to submit, and nodded weakly.

“Good.” Jimin took Yoongi’s hand and kissed his knuckles lightly. “I missed you, hyung. Sorry for worrying you.”

“Common!” they heard Taehyung shout, and then his head appeared in the doorway. “We don't have all day, lovebirds! Jiminie, you’ll have enough time to make out  _after_ this is over, huh?”

Jimin rolled his eyes but swung his gun into position anyway, giving Yoongi a little nod before leaving the monitor room. Yoongi stepped on someone’s arm as he followed, and after a moment of inspection, he realized it was _his_ guard, the one he had _shot_. He gulped loudly and shook his head, jogging to get with his group. Jimin insisted on staying by his side, so he was sandwiched between him and Jin, the tension clear in the air as Hyeok and Taehyung led them to their destination.

Yoongi (although he wouldn't admit it) jumped a little when Jin addressed him in a quiet voice. “He left.”

Yoongi thought that could mean a lot of things, but only one to Jin. “Namjoon?”

Jin nodded, and Yoongi watching as his Adam's apple bobbed. “I told him- he just… stood up and left the bar.”

“Will he report you to the police?” Jimin interrupted.

Jin cocked his head as if he was wondering the same thing. “I… I don't know.”

“He wouldn't do something like that,” Yoongi interjected, but then HE was cut off because Hyeok had shouted something and Taehyung’s gun had released at least five bullets. Jimin pulled Yoongi behind his back and readied his own gun, but it seemed like the danger had passed because three people had dropped dead at the end of the hallway and it stayed silent, save for Taehyung’s erratic breathing.

“We’re good, let's move,” Hyeok confirmed, continuing their trek out of the hallway and up a set of stairs. They stopped at a larger door, one with a label that read ‘Cells’.

Yoongi didn't know what that implied, but Jimin must have because he sucked in a long breath. “This lab? Why do we have to go in this one?”

“Trust me, Jiminie,” Taehyung assured as Jin moved to type in the passcode.

Yoongi grabbed the younger’s hand and gave a tentative squeeze. Jimin squeezed back. The door opened with a mechanical click, and Hyeok went first, swinging the barrel of his gun back and forth across the room. It was dark- the lights were off- and Yoongi took as a good sign. He jumped when the fluorescent lights flicker on, courtesy of Taehyung, and he had to let his eyes adjust before he could make out the room. It was simple, white, but there was a row of doors on the left side, each marked with a number. Jin went to the last door and flipped the keypad open to finger in the code, door giving a little beep as it opened.

Yoongi held his breath as Jin entered, not knowing what to expect. He glanced over to Jimin who gave a little shrug, looking just as apprehensive as him.  
There were audible whimpers from behind the threshold, and Yoongi’s brows furrowed in worry. Before he could suggest one of them go check on Jin, the man himself came out, but this time with a boy at his side. Young, no older than twelve, maybe. It was evident he had been through hell if the bruises and fearful eyes were any indicators.

Jimin let out a cry of surprise and rushed to meet the boy. “Oh my gosh!”

The boy flinched, eyes closing in apprehension and shoulders curling up in defense, but when it was evident Jimin hadn't hurt him, the boy cracked an eye open. Recognition filled his features, and Jimin’s eyes filled with tears.

“Hey there, buddy,” he greeted, voice cracking.

“I-It's yuh-you.” Yoongi barely caught the boy’s words, he spoke so softly that they had to strain to hear.

“Yeah, yeah, it's me. I told you I would get you out of there, right?” Jimin laughed, tears flowing down his face.

Yoongi glanced over at Taehyung and mouthed ‘what the hell’? The piercer just smiled and mouthed back ‘later’.

Jin crouched next to Jimin to look the little boy in the eyes. “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? There are some bad men after us so we have to careful, alright? We’re gonna go upstairs and visit the police.”

The boy's eyes widened comically large. “A-Am I in truh-trouble?”

“No,” Jimin soothed. Yoongi could tell his boyfriend was itching to reach out and comfort the little boy, but he kept his hands at his sides. “You’re not in trouble. But you’re gonna help us tell the police about the bad guys, okay?”

“Okay,” the boy nodded. “Jinnie hyung?”

_Jinnie hyung?_

“Yeah?” Jin smiled kindly.

“W-Will you hold my hand? I'm scared.”

Yoongi could see his hyung’s heart shatter as Jin nodded. “Of course, buddy. We better get going, huh?”

The child nodded and made grabby hands for Jin’s arm. “Yeah, Jinnie.”

Yoongi was just as confused leaving as he was entering, but he had a feeling he would hear the whole story sooner or later, so he followed Hyeok and Taehyung out the door and to the staircase. Jimin appeared beside him, apparently still headstrong about protecting him, and Yoongi shot him a tired smile. He couldn't help but be proud of his boyfriend in a way.

“It’ll be over soon,” Jimin reminded him, reaching out to rest his hand at the base of Yoongi’s neck for a moment before pulling away to grip his gun again.  
They had almost made it to the top floor when Hyeok gave the motion for them to stop. They all heard it, footsteps approaching fast, and Yoongi steeled himself, reaching for his gun just in case. The sound was coming from below, and it was coming fast. Hyeok and Taehyung both cursed in unison when they realized they were in the back of the group, and quickly pushed to the front where Jimin joined them in angling their guns above the railing and down the stairs, firing as soon as they caught sight of the threat.

Jin took the boy behind his back when he let out a little squeak, and Jisu and Yoongi made alarmed eye contact, wondering how the hell they were supposed to help. Hyeok decided for them, because he shouted, “Get out of the bar, quick! We’ll meet you at the station!”

Yoongi wasn't keen on leaving Jimin all alone, but it was evident he had no choice because Jisu had grabbed him and was already dragging him up the stairs. Jimin looked up at a struggling Yoongi and nodded before returning his gaze below. _He's okay_ , Yoongi reminded himself, and followed Jisu up the steps. They made it to the entrance, and Yoongi felt a sense of deja vu; they had just been here not two hours ago, a gun pointed straight at Namjoon’s head. _Namjoon. I wonder how he's doing._

“Alright, straighten yourself up,” Jin said, licking his thumb and reaching for Yoongi’s face, rubbing something off his cheek he didn't know was there. He was only slightly grossed out and wiped off the residue of Jin’s spit. “Get rid of your sweater, Jisu-ssi, it's caked with blood.”

She quickly shredded the bloody item and once Yoongi tucked his gun into his sock, they were cleaned and ready to go. The little boy’s appearance couldn't be fixed so easily, but they had no time to worry over that, and soon Jin was opening the door to the bar’s small hallway. Jisu nodded and they walked through.

People stared, as they should, Yoongi decided, but it still felt like there was a spotlight on him and sign around his neck that said ‘THIS MAN KILLED SOMEONE TODAY!!’. He briefly wondered if this was how Jimin felt; as if everyone could look inside his brain and find his darkest secrets.

They rushed out of the bar so fast Yoongi barely had time to see his and Namjoon’s forgotten drinks sitting at the bar, ice melted.

 

Walking into the police department was...awkward. Not only because Yoongi had just killed someone- but, objectively- it felt like he was confessing to murder just stepping foot in the cold station lobby. They were checked for weapons, and Yoongi had to give up his gun, but they didn't lock him up in handcuffs, so he suspected the police were expecting this visit, Jin probably having called in advance to explain the situation. After they were checked, Jin went to the front desk to speak with the officer and Jisu and Yoongi sat in the waiting area with the little scared boy who looked relieved to be above ground, but simultaneously looked like he wanted to be anywhere BUT the police station.

“I'm Jisu,” Jisu greeted softly, turning to the boy who jumped at being directly addressed. “You can call me noona, though.”

“O-Okay. Noona.”

“What’s your name?”

“Uh, W-Wonho.”

“Well nice to meet you, Wonho,” she smiled.

“I'm Yoongi.” He didn't know why he spoke up, but he felt the need to comfort the boy for some reason. “You can call me hyung.”

Wonho smiled shyly, all yellow and jagged teeth, but it was cute. “... I like your art.”

Yoongi cocked his head but finally understood when the kid pointed to his arm, straight at a rose tattoo. “Ah, my tattoos. You like flowers?”

He nodded and wrung his hands together in his lap.

“How about I go get you something to eat from the cafeteria, huh? I’ll leave you two to talk,” Jisu said, and the boy's eyes lit up.

Yoongi wondered how long it had been since the kid had a proper meal. “Alright, we’ll be here.” He watched as Jisu handed Jin the flash drive and spoke to the officer before heading in the direction of the station’s cafeteria.

He couldn't stop his mind from wandering to Jimin.  _I hope he's okay. Wait, its_ _Jimin, of_ course _he’s okay. He’s Seoul’s greatest sniper. No need to worry. Nope. No need._

“Are you okay, um, Yoomi hyung?”

Yoongi glanced at Wonho and gave a weak smile. “It's Yoongi, kid. And, yeah, I'm fine.”

Wonho scoot to the edge of his seat and gently touched Yoongi’s hand where a detailed daffodil was inked. “Is that a flower, too?”

Yoongi nodded. “I've got a lot of flowers on my body.”

“Can...can I see?” he asked hesitantly.

Yoongi grinned and nodded again. He pulled his t-shirt sleeve up so Wonho could see the soft pink waterlily inked on his bicep. “This is called a water lily.”

Wonho’s eyes sparkled as he pressed a thin finger to Yoongi’s skin, tracing the lines on ink. “I like this one. I think I've seen it before… my mommy’s fishy pond behind our…o-our house…” he drifted off and hung his head low.

Yoongi’s heart shattered. He had never been good with children, especially sad children, but usually, he could get by. Just give the kid candy and he’ll shut up about the toy he didn't get, play a little game to cheer up the little girl who was pouting because she dropped her ice cream, yadda yadda. But this was different. Yoongi didn't know the whole story, but he did know that this kid was a whole different kind of sad and had been exposed to more than he could probably imagine.

“Um, I have a fish on my leg, wanna see?” Yoongi suggested desperately. He quickly glanced at Jin, wondering when he would finish up.

“Yeah!”

Yoongi pulled his jean leg up and showed Wonho the red and white koi fish curling from his calf to the top of his ankle.

“I like that,” Wonho said, poking at the fish. “It looks just like the ones in mommy’s pond.”

Yoongi forced a small smile. “Really?”

“Yup.” Wonho suddenly looked up at him with those doe eyes and said, “I was scared of you at first, Yoomi hyung. The guys who hurt me had art like you, but you’re nicer than they are.”

Yoongi swallowed, throat feeling like sandpaper. Thankfully he was interrupted by Jin who fell into the chair beside him. “We’re gonna wait until the others arrive and then Jisu, Hyeok, and I are meeting with the head of the department. I met with him last week to make a deal with him, so I'm not too worried about this… well, okay, I'm a little worried, but I think things will work out.”

Yoongi suppressed a snort. “What a shit day, huh?”

Jin sighed a finally looked him in the eye for the first time in a while. “I'm sorry, Yoongi. I know it's a lot to… take in- god, I sound so cliche but I know it's not easy for you. I-I wanted to keep my friends and the mafia separate, but it looks like things didn't work out like I planned. I just- I was worried about Namjoon and, and-”

He was getting choked up so Yoongi just placed a hand on the older’s knee, silencing him. “It's okay, hyung. Namjoon’ll come around, he loves you, right? Just wait until it sinks in.”

Jin let out a nervous chuckle. “Can you believe this, Yoon?”

Yoongi shook his head a gave a sad smile. “Nah, man, this shit’s straight out of a movie.”

“You’re telling me.”

_BAM!_

All eyes were on the entrance as Taehyung and Jimin stumbled through, Hyeok dashing in a few seconds later. They were out of breath, bloody, and their guns were hanging from straps around their shoulders, so it's no surprise the police were all over them in a matter of seconds. Jin rushed to let them know that the trio was with them, and soon, after they had taken every weapon in sight, the security dissipated, only a few lingering around the waiting area.

Yoongi couldn't explain the relief he felt when his eyes landed on Jimin. He looked rough, that was for sure, but he was whole, and that's all he could ask for.  
But in the midst of chaos, he didn't get a chance to properly talk to him, because Jin was explaining the situation to not only the police but also to Hyeok. “Listen, we’re gonna have a meeting with the head of police in like,” Jin checked the clock on the wall, “three minutes. Me, you, and Jisu. Since you have a criminal record we need to clean things up and Jisu needs to get in the clearing before she can testify.” Jin turned to Taehyung and Jimin, “You two are gonna be the hardest, but we have solid evidence that you were forced to work for the mafia. You’ll be interviewed separately. The kid will be interviewed, too.”

“M-Me?” Wonho spoke up.

“After we all give our separate testimonies they want to talk about next steps,” Jin said, ignoring the kid.

“We’re gonna be here forever!” Taehyung wined, and Hyeok punched him. “Ouch. What if your dad wakes up before the police decide to infiltrate, huh?”

Jin’s eyes darkened. “Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn't wake up.”

Yoongi shivered. He’d never seen Jin so…  _sur_ e of himself.

“Alright, we better get going,” Jin said, clapping Hyeok on the back. “Where’s Jisu?”

“Here!” she called, juggling a tray of food and placing beside Wonho, whose eyes were as big as the plates. “Just had to get food for the kid. I'm ready.”

“Alright, let's go.” Jin turned to Yoongi. “You alright here?”

“I think I’ll manage without you,” he joked, and Jin rolled his eyes and led Jisu and Hyeok to the elevator. Yoongi watched as the doors slid shut and gave a little ding as they ascended.

As soon as they were out of sight Yoongi’s eyes were searching for Jimin. The younger seemed to have the same idea, because within seconds Yoongi was standing and stumbling into Jimin’s open arms. “Oh my gosh, Jimin, thank god that you’re okay. I was so fucking worried, baby.”

“Shh, it's okay,” he soothed, running a warm hand up and down his back, the motion making Yoongi melt into him. “It's over now.” Yoongi didn't want to cry- not now- but he couldn't stop the tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “Hey, why don't we go to the bathroom and clean up,” the younger suggested.

“Yeah,” Yoongi chuckled, wiping at his eyes. “We look like shit.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Taehyung said, jerking a head to the kid. He had moved the tray to his lap and was gobbling up his cake, leaving the green beans to sit lonely on one side.

“Thanks, Tae,” Yoongi said, dropping a hand on his shoulder. “For everything.”

“Whoa, what's happening?” Taehyung gasped, mocking fear. “Who are you and what did you do with Yoongi hyung?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Ah, I was too soon to speak I see.”

“Okay, let's go Yoongi,” Jimin said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bathroom. Thankfully all the stalls were empty so Jimin sat on the sink and grabbed a paper towel to run it under some water before wiping the blood off his face. “This is gross.”

“You’re telling me,” he murmured, toeing off his shoes that had blood caking the soles.

“Um, hyung…” Jimin started, and Yoongi looked up expectantly.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I… Well, thanks for not leaving me.”

It was so blunt Yoongi had to laugh.

“Hey!” Jimin pouted.

“Sorry, it's just,” Yoongi chuckled. “I thought you had dumped me and I was freaking out for the longest, even moped about it with Namjoon over drinks.”  _Namjoon._

Now it was Jimin’s turn to laugh. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it!”

Yoongi shook his head in mock disbelief. “Yah, Park Jimin, the things you put me through.”

Jimin ducked his head. “I know today was hard. But… thank you. I'm sure we’ll get this all figured out. I-I won't be tied to the mafia anymore. I can finish school and find a job.”

Yoongi’s chest swelled with pride and he wedged himself in between Jimin’s legs. The silver-haired man gave a little happy hum and crossed his legs behind Yoongi’s back, letting his hand slide up the older’s neck and along his cheek. “I love you.”

Yoongi almost choked, and Jimin giggled. “J-Jimin!” he sputtered, a furious blush slapped across his face. Shit, he probably looked like a tomato. “Warn a guy, would you?”

“Sorry,” he giggled, brushing his lips against Yoongi’s. “I just wanted you to know.” Jimin finally pressed his lips against his, and Yoongi wrapped his arms around the younger’s waist, tilting his head up to deepen the kiss. Jimin’s lips were a little chapped, but it felt so  _good_ just to be back in his arms again.

“I love you, too.”

The kiss became heated, quickly, and Yoongi broke it off when Jimin let out a particularly distinct moan. No matter how Yoongi wished he could just rip Jimin’s clothes off right there and make love to him, they  _were_ still in a police station, and he did have a shred of dignity left.

“You love me,” Jimin giggled, and Yoongi rolled his eyes and pressed another kiss to his lips.

“Common, finish getting cleaned up, baby.” While Jimin finished scrubbing his face, Yoongi asked, “So what's the deal with the kid?”

“He was the little boy I was telling you about on the balcony,” Jimin said, his voice both relieved and excited. “The slave boy. It turns out the guy I knocked out was _Jin hyung_.”

“What?” Yoongi sputtered.

“Yeah, Jin was there to get evidence against Numbers, so he took the kid and kept him in a cell until today.”

“Fuck, that's the kid,” Yoongi breathed, and Jimin nodded happily.

“I'm so glad he’s safe, that poor kid. Who knows what he’s been through.”

“Probably hell.”

Jimin agreed. “I hope we can find his parents quickly, I bet they’re worried to death.”

When they had finished up Yoongi patted Jimin’s leg and helped him down from the counter. “Feel better?”

Jimin snorted. “Not really. I need like, three showers before I’ll be completely clean.”

Yoongi chuckled and thread a hand through the younger’s silver locks. “You’ll get those showers soon. Common, we better go back out.”

Jimi followed him out of the bathroom, sighing loudly. “I hate police stations.”

“You can say that again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhmmm, soft Yoonmin? Yes please??
> 
> Also, please love Wonho he is too good for this world :((


	25. How'd You Get My Number?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its only been 679000 years but Im back with a (short) chapter
> 
> I don't say this nearly enough, but thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, it really means the world to me <3 I love all of you xxx

Yoongi could tell the only thing keeping Jimin sane as he filled out stacks upon stacks of paperwork was the bitter coffee that the station cafeteria provided. While everyone was being interviewed separately, the younger had no other option other than to fill out the required papers in order to get out of the scandal with minor scratches. Yoongi felt bad for him and ran to fill up his coffee whenever it ran too low- other than that he didn't know how else to offer any assistance besides just sitting next to his boyfriend and keeping a comfortable hand on his thigh.

Wonho and Taehyung seemed to click instantly, and when Yoongi looked over they were hunched over the piercer’s phone playing some game and giggling loudly. The kid was soon asked to come for his interview, and he only compiled and left Taehyung’s lap when Jin promised he would sit with him through the whole thing.

Hyeok had finished his interview an hour ago and was buried underneath an overwhelming amount of paperwork like Jimin, and it was painful to see them struggling to fill out answers and biting their lips as they signed their names for the hundredth time. Taehyung hadn't been interviewed yet, but somehow Yoongi knew he was going to be carrying back just as large a stack as the other two.

Jisu was still with the head of police helping him decipher the flash drive and showing him evidence of the mafia. Yoongi had only caught a glimpse of the information being downloaded, but what he did happen to see was the opposite of settling, photos of organs and snippets of the videos from the pornography sites. He didn't want to know how long it would take Jisu and the police to go through all the evidence.

Yoongi looked over at Jimin when his leg began to shake, watching as the younger caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared down at the paper, pen ready in his hand. Yoongi rubbing a soothing hand up and down his leg, hoping to at least calm him down. “Why don't you take a break for a minute?” he suggested, pulling Jimin from the paperwork.

“Can't,” he murmured, looking back down and checking the box that said ‘male’ when it asked for his gender. “The sooner I get this done the sooner the police can infiltrate XTC.”

“Baby, you can take a break. Besides, Taehyung and Jisu haven't even started their paperwork yet, we’re gonna be here a while.”

Jimin seemed to hesitate but in he put the pen down and leaned back in his seat. “Okay.”

“Hungry?” Yoongi checked the clock, it was almost 2 am.

“Starved,” Jimin admitted. “I haven't eaten in like, a day.”

Yoongi frowned. “Shit, why didn't you get something sooner? Common, I bet we can find something in the cafeteria.” Jimin slid his little hand into Yoongi’s when they stood to leave. His legs almost gave out right under him; he had been sitting for entirely too long.

There was a small fridge next to the soda machine with boiled eggs and little packaged triangle sandwiches, and Jimin took two of each while Yoongi settled for the bag of chips he found resting in a basket on the counter. They sat at the nearest table, and silence ensued. They were too tired to talk, and Yoongi couldn't wait to go home and get into his own bed, maybe even sleep for a whole day and not give a shit.

“Namjoon hyung,” Jimin spoke up when he had finished his second peanut butter and jelly, moving on to the eggs and peeling off their shells. “Have you heard from him?”

Yoongi shook his head. _I wonder what he's doing now, I doubt sleeping after what happened today_. “They took my phone so I haven't been able to call him.”

“They have a pay phone up front if you wanted to.”

“I think I'm gonna give him some space,” Yoongi sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “He needs some time to stew.”

“That's smart.”

Yoongi snorted. “I hope so.”

Jimin reached for his hand and rubbed a thumb over his knuckles, a motion that had Yoongi melting and letting out the breath he didn't know he had been holding. “I can't wait for this to be over, hyung.”

“Me too, Jimin.”

After they had finished they each grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and threw away their trash before going back to the lobby. It was two hours later before everyone’s interview was over- everyone but Yoongi.

When the police finally called him over he couldn't help but gulp and shoot Jimin a nervous glance. “You’ll be fine, hyung. Tell the truth.”

“What if I mess up?”

“You won’t,” Jimin assured. “Answer their questions the best you can, I’ll be here when you get back.”

Yoongi sent one last nervous glance in his direction. “Okay.” He followed the officer into the interrogation room and jumped when the door swung shut behind him. It was just like the movies, a metal table with a chair on either side in the middle of a bare room. Yoongi had waited in police stations before as he waited for his brother to finish his interrogation, but he had never been the one _being_ interrogated. It was rather unsettling.

“You may have a seat, Officer Bae will be coming in shortly,” the cop said and left the room.

Yoongi swallowed and had a seat at one of the uncomfortable metal chairs, nervously playing with his tongue piercing. He jumped yet again when the door opened, watching as a tall man in a police uniform stepped through. He stood up and bowed, then shook hands with the man as introductions were made.

“Officer Bae,” he greeted with a kind smile, and Yoongi tried his best to look less guilty.

“Min Yoongi.”

“Have a seat, Yoongi, we’ll get started.”

Yoongi parked his ass back down and glanced around the room, awaiting instructions.

“Just to let you know, we are recording this conversation. Standard procedure.”

“O-Okay.”

“I'm here to get to the end of this case, and I hope you’ll be willing to help. Don't be afraid to tell me anything, you and your friends will get out of this with as little damage as possible.”

“Let me start off with saying this,” Yoongi breathed, trying to calm down and looking the Officer in the eye, “Nobody I know  _wanted_ to work for XTC. They were somehow roped in and forbidden to leave.”

“You’re not a member of the mafia, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So how did you get involved in the scene?”

“I hired Taehyung at my tattoo parlor, he was a piercer. There’s another gang called…” Yoongi wracked his brain,  _What did Jimin say it was called?_ “I think it's called Numbers or something.”

Officer Bae nodded and scribbled something down on his notepad.

“Anyway,” he continued, wringing his hands together in his lap. “They were after Taehyung because they thought if they could take him hostage XTC would pay big money to get him back.”

“Why would they pay to get a single member back?” the officer questioned. From the look in his eye it was clear he knew the answer, so Yoongi answered truthfully.

“Taehyung was a good fighter, I think. Losing someone like him wouldn't look so good.”

Bae nodded.

“As I was saying, the guys from the other gang were after him so Taehyung hid in my parlor. Long story short, the thugs broke in.”

“How did you find out about this? Where you in the parlor when it happened?”

“No, I just arrived and saw three guys with guns.”

“And you managed to get out of this unscathed?” Bae asked, quirking a brow.

“Well one of the guys beat me up a little, probably would have blown my head off too, if Jimin hadn't come in.”

“How did Jimin know what was happening.”

Yoongi frowned. “I'm pretty sure Taehyung called him.”

“And what did Jimin do?” Again, Bae knew the fucking answer, he was just testing Yoongi.

“You can't find one of the guys anymore,” he answered nervously. “As for the other two, Jimin threatened them a little and I haven't seen them since.”

“So Jimin killed one of the men.”

Yoongi’s frown grew. “Yeah. It was either him or his best friend. I think it's safe to assume you would have done the same thing, Officer.”

Bae held up two hands. “Whoa, calm down. It was just a question.”

Yoongi sighed and leaned against the back of the metal seat.

“You are aware Jimin worked as a sniper for the mafia, yes?” he continued, pen raised above the notepad expectantly.

“Yes.”

“How do you feel about that, Yoongi?”

Yoongi briefly wondered if this was some kind of counseling session. “It goes against my morals,” he answered honestly. “And the law. But I know he didn't have a choice. He tried to leave the mafia once, and it didn't end well. He has a tattoo to prove it.”

“Right, he showed me his tattoo. Now, tell me, what are your relations with Jimin?” Yet again, Officer Bae knew the answer.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“Were you two together before you knew about his part in the mafia?”

“No, after.”

“I have photos of you two attending a charity gala,” Bae said. “Did you know about the mafia at that time?”

“Yes.”

“People suspected you had relations to kkangpae yourself, based on your appearance.”

“What, my tattoos? Just a hobby, Officer.”

“I assumed so, just wanted to make sure.” More writing. “Now, what are your relations with Kim Seokjin?”

“He’s my roommate's boyfriend. He’s my friend, has been for a while now?”

“How long have you known he was in the mafia?”

“I, uh, found out today. Or yesterday, I guess.”

Bae raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How did you take the news?”

“I was surprised. I didn't think his dad could be the boss of a mafia, honestly.”

“Have you ever met his dad?”

“Kind of. I saw him at the charity gala and he came into my parlor and asked for me to design a tattoo for the mafia.”

“The design is an Ecstacy pill, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you agree to do it when you knew about the mafia?”

“Because if I hadn't,” Yoongi deadpanned, “I would have been killed.”

“Makes sense,” Bae muttered, a little flustered. “Do you have relations with Jisu?”

“No, I didn't meet her until today.”

“Hyeok?”

“Same thing. Jimin mentioned him before, though, because the mafia is after him.”

“Yes. Is there anything else you would like to tell me, Yoongi?”

 _Is there?_ “Yeah, take the mafia down so Jimin can live a normal life.”

“That's it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, thank you for your time, Yoongi. You are dismissed for now, I will be calling a group meeting with the head of our defenses once she gets here in an hour.”

Yoongi stood and bowed deeply, then left. He felt an immense relief when he walked into the lobby once again, meeting Jin’s eye. “How was it?” the oldest asked, standing up from his seat. Wonho was back in Taehyung’s lap- this time sleeping- and Jisu and Hyeok were talking lowly amongst themselves. Jimin looked up and Jin and Yoongi with apprehension.

“Fine,” Yoongi shrugged. “I answered everything truthfully. Some of the questions were…”  _Too personal?_ “Uncomfortable.”

“Thanks for helping us, Yoongi,” Jin nodded, placing a hand on the younger’s shoulder. “It means a lot to me.”

Jin was like his big brother, leaving him to deal with the police alone was almost unthinkable. “It's fine.”

“I'm going to grab some coffee and try to call Namjoon,” Jin sighed.

Yoongi frowned. “Hyung, I know you want him to understand, but I think it would be better for you to wait. If Namjoon came into the station and started talking to you the police might take him for questioning, too.”

Jin looked like he wanted to argue but he just ducked his head and said, “You’re right. That was a stupid idea.”

Yoongi patted his hyung’s arm and said, “You’ll be able to talk to him soon.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shrugged and returned to his seat next to Jimin who took his hand. “Hey.”

“Hey. You finished your paperwork?” the tattoo artist asked.

“For the most part,” Jimin sighed, leaning against the back of his seat and yawning. “We’re all going to meet with the head of defenses in like, an hour.”

“So I heard. Maybe after that, we can finally go.”

“Fingers crossed. Can't wait to sleep.”

“Why don't you take a nap, baby,” Yoongi suggested. “I’ll wake you up when the meeting starts.”

Jimin looked over to Yoongi and gave a reluctant smile. “You sure?”

Yoongi chuckled. “Go to sleep, Jimin.”

Five minutes later Jimin was knocked out, head lolling against Yoongi’s shoulder. He could feel the younger drooling on his shirt, but none of that mattered. He was entertained watching Hyeok and Jisu argue over god knows what as Jin looked on with concerned eyes, shushing them ever so often because  _"My two favorite dongsaengs are sleeping!"_

When __a tall pretty woman introduced herself as the head of defense, Kim Jisoo, Yoongi shook Jimin awake and they all shuffled into a meeting room. This one was not as intimidating as the interrogation room, but they were told they were still being recorded. All of their phones sat in a line on the oak table. Yoongi sat down in between Jimin and Jin, the younger of the two reaching under the table and grabbing his thigh in a comforting manner.

Jisoo stood at the front of the room, towering over the table, a powerful yet kind aura radiating off her. Officer Bae joined them a moment later, pulling a chair to the corner room and settling down with his stupid notepad. “I want to get to the point,” the woman said as a greeting, cutting straight to the chase. “We have enough evidence to take down XTC  _and_ Numbers, thanks to you guys. This is something we’ve been waiting to do for a while now, just haven't had solid evidence like that flash drive. I'm not going to lie, the police have known about the mafia for a while now, and I'm sure you know-” she sent Seokjin a pointed look- “That the mafia pays us to keep quiet. I'm not proud of that fact, and if I had any say in the matter it wouldn't be like that. But it's the truth.”

“That's why we are willing to offer a sort of...” Seokjin shot Bae a knowing look, “ _Money incentive_.”

“And we will be taking advantage of that offer,” she said truthfully. “But this meeting isn't about that. This is about taking the mafia down and keeping you all innocent. This is a bargain, I know none of you are innocent- maybe the kid- and two of you in particular,” she eyed Jimin and Taehyung, “Deserve to be in prison for the rest of your lives.”

Jimin visibly bristled.

“I'm just stating the facts,” she said, then turned to Seokjin. “Your father is unconscious right now so we need to act quickly if we want this plan to work. Seokjin-ssi, you need to go back underground and take control when we infiltrate, tell XTC defenses to back down, threaten them if they don't. Hyeok-ssi is going to act as his bodyguard, don't hesitate to take out anyone who messes with the plan. As for the rest of you, I need you to stay low, maybe go home or out of town. If anyone from the mafia recognizes you they might kill you.”

“Jisoo-ssi,” Jimin interrupted, voice eerily cool. “We will not be taken to court, correct? Our records are cleared?”

“Yes,” she sighed, “That's apart of the bargain. Evidence for innocence-”

Before she could finish, one of their phones on the table rang.

There was a long silence, filled only by the sound of an ominous ringtone before Bae spoke up. “Who’s phone is that?”

“Mine,” Seokjin admitted. “Can I answer it?”

Jisoo eyes the phone. “Who is it?”

Jin grabbed the phone and glanced at the ID.

 _Please be Namjoon_ , Yoongi thought.

“Um, it's an unknown number,” he stuttered out.

Jisoo and Bae looked at each other before she said, “Speakerphone, Kim.”

So he answered and put the phone on speakerphone. “Hello?”

“Jin hyung? Did I get the right number?”

Okay, that was definitely not Namjoon, but Jimin seemed to recognize the voice because he gasped and asked, “Jaeo-ssi?”

Jin’s eyes widened. “ _Jaeo?_ Is that really you? How did you get my number?”

“Dad’s awake,” Jaeo said, sounding a bit sniffly, ignoring the question. “And he wants to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing another fic so I can update regularly when this one ends :')


	26. Why I'm Ending This Fic

Some of you guys might have noticed that I haven't updated in a while, and for that, I am so sorry! Over the past few weeks (yikes! has it been a month I haven't posted?!) I have been struggling with finishing this story, and I'll give you a few reasons why. Please take time to read them because I feel like members of the BTS fandom should understand where I'm coming from.

First and foremost, the BTS fandom has become extremely toxic and frankly embarrassing. I believe that most of the fandom is great and completely normal, but as most things on the internet go, only the bad side of the fandom shines through. Shipping wars and hate towards other fandoms is a big issue, and solo standing is just as big of a problem. I joined the fandom three years ago, and I can proudly say that the wonderful people involved practically raised me, and I learned so much awesome stuff being apart of it. I love BTS' music and the members, that's why I joined the fandom. I will never stop listening to their music or stop supporting them, but I feel like I need to step back from the fandom if only for a little while just to work on myself. 

 

Secondly, which admittedly I'm a little nervous to talk about, I have to address the LGBTQ+ community. I have found it harder and harder to support them for multiple reasons. Before you tear my head off, just hear me out. Few (not all) are toxic towards straight people and make them out to be homophobic or wannabees. As a straight person myself, I've found it hard to write this fic because I'm worried about the reactions of some readers; worried that some would zero me out for 'using the LGBT community to feed their fetishes'. This isn't the only reason I can't fully support them. Representation in the media plays a big part. Recently I heard that the producer of sesame street confirmed that he considered Bert and Earnie to be a gay couple. Now I understand the LGBT community wants representation, any valid minority would, but making two characters in a KIDS show gay is a whole other level. Not only are you forcing a lifestyle some people might (wrongly) disapprove of, but you're making it hard on the kids who have parents that are firmly against the gay lifestyle. I believe gay rights should be represented in a non-demanding manner and that kids should be raised to love everyone and accept themselves for who they are, gay or straight. But I also believe it is the PARENTS job to teach their kids according to their beliefs. Many members of the LGBTG+ community talk about how Christians and Catholics shove their beliefs down their throats, but they turn around and do the same thing. We need to love each other, accept our differences, and accept the fact that not everyone is going to support the LGBT movement and THAT IS OKAY. IT IS OKAY. What's NOT okay is taking away LGBT rights or hurting them because of who they are. Everyone deserves equal representation and an equal voice. 

There are a few other factors, but I don't feel comfortable getting into those. I will answer anything you have to say in the comments and clear everything up. I would be happy to discuss any of this with you guys and going into further detail if you need me to. I'm really sorry I had to end this, but I feel like it's what I need to do to help my mental health and relationships. 

 

Thank you for all of the support, I still love y'all so much :-)


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